


Thou Wilt Quake For This

by TKelParis



Category: Much Ado About Nothing (2011), Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deception, F/M, Forced Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2019-03-04 10:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKelParis/pseuds/TKelParis
Summary: Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?





	1. Fitted With a Pennyworth

**Author's Note:**

> This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[tardis_mole](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** : [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/). You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.  
  
  


**Thou Wilt Quake For This**  
  
**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**  
  
**CHAPTER ONE: FITTED WITH A PENNYWORTH**  
  
Sunglasses still on her head, Beatrice stormed into the gardens of her uncle's domain, grateful that the work for the day was already completed. It allowed her to fume in privacy, and vent to her heart's content.  
  
“My cousin hath not let me alone since the dreaded day: and today not until the Prince and his men arrived. Yet even then I have hardly had a moment's peace! How can I? I am trapped! Even months after the event I still can not figure out who had the villainy to set up enough of a deception to make it look like I had been careless with mine virtue! To trap me into being expected to marry now that this action hath ended. A proper saying, that I had let a man I hath been at war with for nearly ten years take liberties that are not his to claim! To force me to be bound to Benedick!”  
  
She moaned in frustration.  
  
“The deception was a carefully constructed event, I shall confess. Any more outlandish in the implications and even my uncle would have known it was not me that was witnessed and challenged it. But twas enough to leave me soon having a new lord to answer to. Mine only consolation is that this man hath never, in the whole of our acquaintance, tried to impose himself on me; and that he is honourable enough to agree to the marriage even though his name had also been maligned. Innocence in this he too hath, that I know. He hath also vowed to learn the names of the villains who placed us in this unwanted situation.”  
  
Pacing, she ran her hand through her hair. “The action left me in a precarious state, indeed. If he had not returned I fear it would have been unclear whether I would have been able to show my face in society again. But he has and the wedding shall take place in two days. With my uncle engrossed in entertaining the Prince and Hero distracted by the Count I may depend on having time to myself until the preparations for the revels begin. I am certain that no one shall enter until then.”  
  
Within moments she heard footsteps. She resisted the urge to growl. “Someone else is seeking solitude. Who dares to come here?”  
  
She was silent as soon as she saw his face. Senor Benedick.  
  
He saw her and stiffened a moment, remembering her last words to him when he ended that round of their merry war. But he took a deep breath. There was something they had to speak of. It was why he had sought to know where she went after her parting barb. “Lady Beatrice, may I speak with thee in the bounds of a truce?”  
  
Her eyes widened slightly for a moment. “Only one subject can be meant by that, Senor.”  
  
“Yea, the one that hath cost us each much sleep and distress.”  
  
And he meant that, for he still remembered that dreadful following morning.  
  
_They were permitted to speak in private, but there were gentlewomen and gentlemen watching them from a distance. It meant that their words had to be in whispers. At least the gardens had seating that permitted all wishes to be honored._  
  
_Benedick leaned in once they were seated, solely to ensure as much of their privacy as possible. “How can thou have none who can testify to thy innocence?”_  
  
_Beatrice flushed hotly and her eyes flashed. “If you have not noticed, Senor, there are a great many things that a lady is not supposed to speak of. Certainly not that she hath been made ill from the effects of Eve's shame.”_  
  
_He took a long moment to try to figure that one out. He had no sisters, and had not been as near his mother as he often wished. One more thing to be angry at his father about._  
  
_She scowled as his ignorance was apparent. Figured that he, a man, would have no understanding of such things! Even if he had the excuse that he was born without the means, in body and mind, to comprehend it. “I grow old and yet Spring prefers to trick my body into thinking it still has hold over me even though I am unwed and do not participate in the planting season.”_  
  
_At last he realized what she meant and blushed. “Not even when it proves the words a slander?!”_  
  
“ _Not in mine uncle's house.”_  
  
_He groaned and rubbed his face with both hands._  
  
“ _What about you? Dost thou have witnesses to testify?”_  
  
“ _If I could produce any to speak on mine behalf that would leave thee alone, my fellow wit combatant: that I cannot do.”_  
  
_His phrasing was mixed with an odd hesitation. “You do know someone who could.”_  
  
_He leaned in closer and lowered his voice even further. “To speak of it would break an oath of secrecy to the Prince, and even he would not break silence on this one. The matter I conducted for him is too delicate for my true location yesternight to be made public. And again where would that leave thee?”_  
  
_Beatrice slumped. “O god! What is to become of me?! You cannot wish to wed!”_  
  
“ _Yet offer thou my hand I shall, for I cannot endure the thought of a lady wrongfully shunned when there is another way. And I swear to thee that I shall hunt the villains who caused this and make them bound to their answer.”_  
  
_It was far less than she could have wished for, and yet far more than she had any right to ask._  
  
“ _What doth thou expect of me?”_  
  
“ _In that we may decide between ourselves at our leisure, for there is a great many matters to resolve.”_  
  
“ _Fair luck for you, Senor.”_  
  
“ _What means thee?”_  
  
“ _That you have gained a rich wife at no trouble to yourself save your name being maligned.”_  
  
“ _I should rather have mine honour remain unimpeached and I should hope you would know that, my Lady. But know that thou shall have the full reign over thy father's lands, for who knows their traditions better? I am an interloper, no matter what says the law. Tis thy right to rule thy inheritance as is fitting, and I shall ensure that happens. I swear it on mine honour.”_  
  
_That was a greater comfort. His honor was not something he took lightly. Indeed he was probably the most serious about it of any of the Prince's men, perhaps including the Prince himself. So his word was the greatest promise anyone could ask for._  
  
_He knew she was not happy. “Lady Beatrice, we must marry to protect thee from shame and public ridicule, and to keep mine true whereabouts concealed. Will thou have me?”_  
  
_At least he granted her the illusion that it was her choice. Small comfort, but it showed some thought to her feelings. Which was more than most in her uncle's House would allow her._  
  
She sank onto one of the benches and waved an invitation to sit across from her. For all she spoke against him she knew he was a man of pure honor and meant it when he said he gave his word that something would happen. “Have you any news about who placed us in this wrongful position?”  
  
He took the garden seat. The words exchanged with Don Pedro and Claudio had nearly taken away all of his good humor and it was hard enough to slip away to give quiet orders to his own men after carrying out the Prince's command. “No proof that would suffice to free us from this enforced marriage, but perhaps some clue as to the identity of the villains. And I am completely satisfied that none in my own company were in the slightest complicit in the matter.”  
  
“I knew there had to be more than one to create such sayings and tales that would make the world convinced we acted improperly,” she snapped, her hands twitching to cause injury to those men. “Who are they you suspect, Senor?”  
  
“I hath my suspicions of John the Bastard and his two most trusted men, Conrade and Borachio.”  
  
She stiffened. “A grave accusation that _cannot_ be made without proof; the Prince would require nothing less even from such a one as you, Senor. What cause hath you to suspect so?”  
  
His fingers had their turn twitching. “It is in how they look at me whenever our marriage is spoken of, or if men dare hint at the lies that they do not know are lies. The subject only goes if Don Pedro insists, and I hath required his assistance far more often than I care for. I am certain that the Bastard's men cast the lies and that Don John is the author of all, but they are covering themselves well.”  
  
Beatrice groaned and stood, pacing. After a moment, she looked him in the eye. “Can we set a trap of our own?”  
  
“Only if they mean to cause mischief in the coming week, and knowing how much the Bastard despises Claudio I could imagine he shall seek some.”  
  
Her eyes widened. “O god! Hero! My cousin looks on Claudio with an eye of favour, and I am sure he is not immune to her. Don John could not hurt her in the mischief, could he?”  
  
Benedick paled. “I would not put it past him, only to hurt her would be to prevent something she wished.”  
  
“What can be done?!”  
  
“I cannot act without suspicions of some impending mischief and I cannot do anything that would put them on their guards to a further extent; therefore I must keep mine eyes and ears alert without seeming to. I beg thee to do the same, my lady.”  
  
“What can I do when it is not likely what I shall hear of their plans?”  
  
“Servants overhear more than many give them credit for; one servant overhearing something may look on thee with concern and then you could persuade them to speak of it.”  
  
A groan accompanied her resigned expression. She looked at him again, this time worried. “What if we cannot prove anything in time?”  
  
He stood slowly, yet kept where he was. “Then I shall stand by mine promise and defend thy honour as mine own for life. We may not have chosen this, yet I know we each could have endured far worse in an enforced match.”  
  
She managed a smile. “Yea, I hath evaded matches proposed by mine uncle for years. Doth the same hold for you?”  
  
His smile was grimmer. “All ladies of meek manner, without an original thought.”  
  
A laugh escaped her. “O poor fool! What a curse, to be wed to dust!”  
  
“Lady Beatrice, whatever thou thinkest of me, know that I meant the words I spoke when this first happened. I intend to be an honourable husband, and am certain that I can trust that thou wilt be an honourable wife.”  
  
She crossed her arms protectively, trying to conceal a shiver at the thoughts of the wifely duties that she knew her aunt often resented. It led right to another great concern. “What of the wedding night? I know nothing and none will tell me anything.”  
  
He marveled in dismay, and not for the first time, that women could be such enemies when they were often the only allies who would listen and could act on their behalf. He flushed as images hit his mind that were disturbingly pleasing to him. “Without boasting I can state that I know some things about how to please a woman, and so I can do what I can to make... becoming one flesh not unpleasant to both of us.”  
  
Her face tried to match her hair. Fortunately she quickly thought of a subject guaranteed to make her lose said color. “And what of children?”  
  
He took a breath, considering his words for a long moment. “As expected of us as that shall be, I would wish to wait until we can reach some standing truce whilst engaging in verbal battles. I believe I should miss these matches if they ceased.”  
  
She found a tiny smile. “Never have I hath a man willing to be challenged as much as you proved willing, so I should miss our war if it ended.”  
  
“The question where children are the matter is doth thou wish for thy father's legacy to be continued.”  
  
She thought a moment. “I hath wished that my father's line not die with me, and yet I have not seen a man who I trusted enough to risk my life to bear fruit.”  
  
He tensed, thinking of the women he knew who had given their lives for their babes. “I wish for thou to live a very long time, for I doth know that children need their mother.” He kneeled before her and reached carefully for one of her hands. “Might I prove worthy enough for thou to accept that chance if I swear on mine honour to send for anything to see to thy and any babe's health?”  
  
She gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. “You hath a chance to earn such trust, Benedick. Do what is possible to find and punish our imprisoners, and I shall be a good wife; yet do not expect obedience.”  
  
He almost smiled. “If thou suddenly became obedient, I should worry for thy mind.”  
  
“And if thou became completely pleasant I should wonder if thou had gone mad.”  
  
They laughed for a long moment, and then shook hands as they both stood.  
  
“Until the evening, my dear Lady Disdain?”  
  
“May thy disguise provide thee with opportunities to seek the truth, Senor Mountanto.” With that she walked away, leaving her sunglasses on her head.  
  
He watched her until she was no longer in sight. Then he sighed loudly. “I shall learn who hath tak'n our right to choose away from us both, make them answer to the world and live with the public shame. I can live with my Lady Beatrice as I would be assured of having children with wit and wisdom and virtue, as she is a virtuous lady of good discourse; but it would be best if we could each be free to choose our own journeys. Yet we shall be reveng'd as we may.”  
  
With that, he went in a different direction to his own room.  
  
  
Chapter Two: [Cunning Shall Not Shame](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91287.html)


	2. Cunning Shall Not Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to tardis_mole for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** : tkel_paris  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** : sykira. You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to tardis_mole for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.  
  
  
  
  
**Thou Wilt Quake For This**  
  
**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**  
  


[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/90765.html)

 

 

/=/=/=/

 

**CHAPTER TWO: CUNNING SHALL NOT SHAME**

Don Pedro had listened to Benedick's rant about Beatrice with disbelieving ears. Whilst the pair seemed to have more or less resigned themselves to the match that had been wrongly foisted upon them they had neither made peace with each other. If they preferred to rattle each other's cages so much, how could they be as indifferent to each other as they professed? Surely there was mutual respect at least?

So he had tested it by noting that the lady was returning. Benedick's near freak-out made him all the more convinced that the man was hardly as despising of the lady as he proclaimed himself.

Therefore once the lord from Padua left in a huff from a wounded pride Don Pedro spoke a little with Lady Beatrice to hear her side. Her professions that she may as well have never had the heart of Benedick seemed at odds with the subtle ways she acted around the man. She never shied away from challenging Benedick with a war of words, and he sometimes sought her out. Neither ever backed down from an initial challenge, and whilst Benedick would usually end the matches it was clear that only social custom supporting him prevented Beatrice from responding as she wished. And therefore more proof that the accusation against them could not be true.

Unfortunately even his rank did not permit him to act, which rankled him, and Benedick moreso. Only a closer friendship with the lord of Padua, Benedick's father, might have permitted that. If so, then the fact that Leonato's lands had once belonged directly to the kingdom might have allowed him to declare it a falsehood and thereby defend both honours. If only he had felt able to befriend the man that Benedick had left Padua to avoid.

With Claudio and Hero sorted out, it seemed a surprise to the Prince that Beatrice would say, “Good lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one happily to the world but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for free choice!”

The quiet that happened afterward bothered Don Pedro, who quickly accepted two glasses from Innogen and had them filled by Leonato. “Lady Beatrice, your silence most offends me, and to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.”

“No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.”

He sat beside her and held out one of the glasses. “Would that I had found those whose lies hath placed thee into thy present circumstances I would have thee freed from any promise; for I know you thou art innocent of any wrongdoing.”

“And yet the law would have me fitted with a husband, no matter that God hath not made men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve anyone to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? To make an account of their life to a clod of wayward marl? No, my lord, I would have had none were the choice left to me.”

If he understood her correctly, she feared being overpowered by someone who knew not the ways of her ancestors' lands, their traditions and customs. He did not doubt that she knew them better than anyone. He hoped to reassure her. “Well, take comfort in that you will marry a man with a fine wit.”

She laughed. “True, a fine little one.”

“No, a great wit.”

“Right, a great gross one.”

“Nay, a good wit.”

“Just; it hurts nobody.”

“Nay, the gentleman is wise.”

“Certain, a wise gentleman.”

“Nay, he hath the tongues.”

“That I believe, for he swore a thing to me on a Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; there's a double tongue; there's two tongues.”

“Wilt thou for an hour together transshape Benedick's particular virtues?” the Prince inquired in amazement.

Beatrice sighed. “If you insist upon knowing, my lord, I do consider Senor Benedick the most proper man who hath ever set foot in Messina; he hath sworn an oath that he shall be honourable to me in marriage, and such an oath as he gave I hath ne'er heard of him breaking. And yet, how can either of us be happy? Our reputations slandered and we are unable to act to defend them as we do not know the source; we neither sought marriage nor wished for it; and so I must trade one lord for another with no assurance that I shall be any happier and whilst still being looked upon with scorn.”

In the ensuing silence she was very uneasy. She had to try to make the mood lighter. Yet she could not find the words. At least not on that score. “Instead of marriage I would rather have one of your father's geldings. Hath your Grace ne'er a kiss and found it talk'd a groat when it worth a penny? Or found himself placed in company that questioned his honour more than mine and yet knows himself not placed there in truth?”

Don Pedro flinched reflexively. He knew that she was hinting at whether he would trust the word of a friend if he would not trust a woman's. That told him that Benedick had at least hinted at why he was going along with the forced match. “Lady, I wish that mine word alone could be enough to free you from something that causes so much pain and frustration. I offered to speak of Benedick's innocence but he asked me to keep my peace; I believe it was more for your sake than the mission I handed him. Believe me when I say that I hath given Benedick every aid possible in uncovering the villains.”

Every aid that he would think of, but she knew that there were some that he could not think of. Given that Benedick suspected Don John then there were things that the Prince could have done; yet she could not truly fault him since it was very difficult to believe that family could be so cruel.

He had to at least attempt to reassure her. “Surely you know that Benedick will be fair to you? I hath never known him to grant a lady so much of his time. Surely he shall make a better husband for you than any other man.”

She managed a small smile. “He is bearing the shame well on my behalf. I hope that he shall find me nice enough to be married to. My family line is honourable and strong: even if it is forced upon him he may come to appreciate it in good time.”

The words seemed to be concealing some great emotions toward Benedick. It made him frown as he tried to place them.

Beatrice needed to be alone. “By your grace's pardon,” she whispered, pleading to be released to her own devices.

Don Pedro nodded and watched her leave – although not before she called out, “Cousins, god give you joy!” – before his eyes dropped, and yet a smile crossed his lips as he stood. “By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady; and all in spite of the wrongful accusations.”

Leonato let the Prince have the bottle, for it allowed him to reflect freely. “There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamed of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing.”

They all laughed at that picture. “She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband, even though she is to be wed in days.”

“O, by no means: she mocked all her wooers out of suit. Indeed, my lord, I fear at times that if she and Benedick were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.”

There, Don Pedro realized as he stepped forward. That was it! His thoughts on a sudden path that glowed brightly to him as his hands nearly spoke without his consent. He recalled one conversation with Benedick that had bewildered him during this last action:

“ _Thou hast not been joining the men in seeking entertainment, Benedick,” noted the Prince as he poured a drink for the Senor and himself. They were alone and could speak freer. “I should have expected that losing thy bachelor's life would make thee seek distraction.”_

_Benedick took the drink but did not move to down the contents. “Troth, my lord, I hath watched mine mother endure my father's numerous floating of his vows: the same shall not happen to mine wife. Faithful to her I shall be, and I hath chosen to begin now. Beatrice hath endured enough shame at the villains' hands; I cannot add to it.”_

_Don Pedro's eyes widened. “By my troth, that is remarkable! A man who truly believes the vow to forsake all others upon marriage. Well, if all lived by that there would be far fewer living in misery for there would be no bastards.”_

_The sudden tension in the Prince's voice made clear that he was thinking of Don John. Benedick was a quick man, he would spot it._

_And he did. “You are sure that it is right to let your brother back into your grace?”_

_Don Pedro downed the glass' contents. “I hath no proof of new mischief, and he handled himself well enough on the last action. Unless he doth cause pain to another I must honour my father's wishes and keep him with me. Near me I am better able to keep watch on him, and that is the best hope of his reforming.”_

_Benedick exhaled loudly._

“ _You do not agree.”_

“ _Let me put my thoughts this way, my lord: I would not trust Don John with any command that was mine to give.”_

“ _Fair enough. Be glad then that he is not thine responsibility.”_

_The look on Benedick's face, brief as it was, suggested that it might be better for the world if that had been the case._

_Don Pedro decided to pretend he did not see it. It was difficult enough to lead with this shame hanging over his head and the obligations his father had bestowed upon him. A change of topic was called for. “Thou wilt be wedded within days of our return to Messina. How art thou prepared to take on the mantle of being lord of the Tomasi estate there?”_

_He thought it necessary to ask despite knowing Benedick's great sense of right, for he knew Beatrice's mother's mother was daughter of a Duke of Venice. There was no love lost between Padua and Venice, after all. Some would scold Benedick for connecting himself to the Di Salvo line in any form no matter the wealth of the lady._

_Of course Benedick would also become a cousin to Sicily's royal family as Beatrice's father was of an indirect line to the throne. Which apparently was the only thing that permitted Benedick's family to approve of the match, for they at present had no useful ties to that family. Sadly the law forced Beatrice, as an orphan and the only heir, to go by her uncle's family name, Grimaldi._

_Benedick gave the Prince a pointed look. “Tis not mine to rule, Prince. They are Beatrice's lands by blood and right, no matter what says the law. I shall merely ensure she is able to reign over what she should already be in control of by forfeiting all claim to my father's name and arguing for the use of her father's name, lands, and titles and leave the running of said to her. After the wedding her name can at last revert to her birth name. I hope she finds me a husband she can live with even if I am forced on her, and that I may be appreciated as a man in time as Benedick Tomasi of Messina.”_

_Only the sounds of someone coming prevented the Prince from asking what he meant. And he was unable to renew the topic before he became preoccupied with other matters._

Don Pedro called Claudio back, not entirely surprised that he and Hero had been enjoying themselves in the shadows. When Leonato confirmed that their wedding would not be any sooner than the same day that his niece would wed the plan firmed in the Prince's mind.

“Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall go dully by us. Leonato, your words ring true, for what other reason could the liars have had but to endevour to make Senor Benedick miserable by forcing him to be bound to a lady they thought he abhorred and who felt the same about him? Whilst failure hath met every effort of mine to unmask the villains and release the honourable pair from their bounds, I shall not see the former remain free nor the latter unhappy. I will in the interim undertake one of Hercules' labours; which is to ensure that Senor Benedick and the Lady Beatrice do not wed without first being brought into an acknowledged mountain of affection the one with the other and uncovering the liars in one fell swoop!” At the exclamations he poured more champagne as he continued, “I would fain have it a love match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction.”

“My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten nights' watchings,” declared Leonato, seeing his wife happily nodding her own agreement.

“And I, my lord,” confirmed Claudio, seeing the Prince's bent.

“And you too, gentle Hero?” Don Pedro checked, needing to ensure the help of the one person who could persuade Beatrice.

“I would have done any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband. But how doth this not make the accusation worse in my cousin's mind or in Benedick's?”

Don Pedro had to take a breath to compose his thoughts. “A legitimate question, wise Hero, to which I have an answer. Thus far can I praise Benedick; he is of a noble strain, of approved valour and confirmed honesty. It is how I have always known that he was innocent of the accusation.”

He refrained from admitting that he had other reasons for knowing of Benedick's innocence, but that matter was still a grave secret.

“And Lady Beatrice is of careful action, of an equally noble strain, and confirmed virtue that would make any who know her convinced of her innocence. It was a perfect storm of circumstances that made it impossible to challenge the accusation without materially damaging at least Beatrice's reputation, and I am determined that we shall have revenge upon those who lied about them; and what better way than to make them think they hath instead of making them miserable done them a favour? I am unconvinced that they are not affected by the other given the words each has spoken to me; I believe they only need to be persuaded to bid farewell to their anger for better feelings to consume them. I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall openly in love with Benedick; and I, with your two helps, will so practice on Benedick that, in spite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall see no other honourable action but to fall in a displayed love with Beatrice!”

At the cheers he added, “And when they appear before the assembly in the church in love and ready to be bound in honourable marriage shall the villains be enraged that the match is not a punishment but a reward; so much so that they shall roust themselves from hiding, unable to conceal their dismay, and we can expose them for what they are; leaving Benedick and Beatrice with their heads held high and reputations fully restored!”

/=/=/=/=/

Don John and Borachio approached, hearing the cheering from the assembled group. The former's humour was completely lost upon seeing Hero in the arms of Claudio. He barely overheard his brother the Prince claiming, over the sounds of overeager agreement, “...for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, and I will tell you my drift.”

His humour was further soured by Innogen kissing his cheek, leaving a little lipstick behind. O that he could stain that woman's reputation!

Borachio knew to merely drag his cigarette and let his lord vent a moment. But only a moment before stating his plan for crossing the intended marriage between Claudio and Hero that they had sought to prevent from even being planned. He was not surprised with the answer.

“Be as cunning in the working of this as thou and Conrade were in entrapping Benedick to that harpy cousin of Hero's, and thy fee is... a thousand ducats.”

“Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me. Then it shall work as well as the previous one did, and leave Benedick in a worse state as his honour will oblige him to defend a cousin publicly declared contaminated. Margaret's favouring me shall once again be the undoing of another.”

“I will presently go and learn their day of marriage.” Don John left, but not without a stiff 'friendly' punch to his man's arm.

Borachio paused to drag another smoke. As he turned away to locate Margaret for one last little ploy with her before he had to return to duty, he assumed that he and his master had been alone.

But out of the shadows popped Bruno, the youngest working gentleman of Leonato's House. He stared after Borachio and where Don John had walked away, and his eyes were wide open.

He stepped into the light, eyes fixed on where they had been. “How can anyone do that to another? What sort of person takes joy in causing mischief to others? O god, shall anyone believe me?! I must try and make someone listen even though I am just a lad, and a servant at that! I hope I can make the Lady Beatrice and Senor Benedick listen, for they might believe me! They would be able to do something!”

 

Chapter Three: [Stalking the Fowl That Sits](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91533.html)


	3. Stalking the Fowl That Sits

[](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/) figured out the secret. She reviews, I'll post another chapter. ;D Just don't count on the next one also being posted tonight, okay, love? *hugs*

 

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** :  [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile) [ **tkel_paris** ](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** :  [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile) [ **sykira** ](https://sykira.livejournal.com/) . You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to  [ ](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile) [ **tardis_mole** ](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

BTW, sykira: tardis_mole says hi, shi's thinking of you, and wishes you well. And is delighted that you're enjoying this.

 

 

 

**Thou Wilt Quake For This**

**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**

 

 

[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/90765.html) / [Chapter Two](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91287.html)

 

 

 

**CHAPTER THREE: STALKING THE FOWL THAT SITS**

Bruno was in complete dismay over his bad luck. From the moment he heard of the plot he had tried to slip away to catch the attention of someone in authority. He could not find Senor Benedick as that gentleman had retired. The Lady Beatrice had also respectively retired, and the Count and the Lady Hero were with her parents in a meeting – one to not be disturbed.

Young as he was, Bruno was not stupid. He could not risk the Prince's brother or that bearded man learning that he knew. Until he had convinced someone to listen to him he had to act with caution.

As the party wound down he had attempted it. Waving, flapping his arms did nothing but get him sent off to bed without being granted a hearing by his own parents. He could hardly sleep, and tried grabbing little slips of paper to leave notes to beg an audience with the governor or his wife.

Those were seemingly all nabbed by his unaware father, intent on drafting new music for the wedding or leaving a love note for his mother. A waste of effort!

And he had to act like he was simply a child playing with a toy. He was unable to catch the Lady Innogen's attention because there was too much of a chance of that bearded fellow overhearing, and Aunt Margaret could not be depended on given how much she admired the man. And the Prince... He doubted such a loft personage would pay him any mind at all.

But he saw a chance to speak with the senor who was surely looking for this information. He lay leaning against a pillar, grasping a can of soda like a life preserver and seemingly enduring the pain of too much drinking. Bruno had seen the effects in some of the men of the house often enough to know them.

Yet he had to act with some caution. The Senor was said to be a deadly soldier, and startling him was unwise.

“Boy...”

Bruno sucked in a breath. An opening! He rushed over and saluted. “Senor!”

However Benedick flinched hard, as though the voice was too loud. So the young gentleman waited to see how the man fared before he mentioned his important business. The little consideration might go a long way toward ensuring an audience.

But the request suggested that the Senor was not in a state to hear anything. “In my chamber-window lies a book.” Benedick motioned for a long moment, struggling to put together words. “Bring it hither to me.”

“I am here already, sir, to speak with thee.”

But Benedick merely pushed up his sunglasses and glared at the boy. “I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again.”

Bruno felt left with no choice but to fetch it. Perhaps when he returned it would be a better time to make his case. “A book?” he checked.

“A book,” Benedick repeated, copying the boy's tones before he waved him off.

Unaware of the boy's dismay, Benedick groaned as he took a sip. It was rather bright, but he knew that was his own fault for drinking extra after he left the revels. Drinking in anger had never done him good, and yet he had still carried it out. And now he needed to vent his spleen.

It would distract him from the thought of venting anything else. His heart, his mind, bladder...

“I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laughed at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own scorn by falling in love: and such a man is Claudio. I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he rather hear the tabour and pipe: I have known when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man and a soldier; and now is he turned... orthography; his words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes.”

He thought silently for a moment, then needed to voice them aloud. “May I be so converted and see with these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till he hath made an oyster of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. And as I wed on the morrow, none shall.”

Taking another long sip, his thoughts drifted to what might have been, and he slowly lost himself in his words. “Had my choice been my own... rich she would have been, that's certain; wise, or I'd none; virtuous or I'd never cheapen her; fair, or I'd never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, an excellent musician, and her shall be red-”

He caught himself, and pointed the finger that had been making an idle point off to the side. “...of what colour it please God.”

He tried to act nonchalant about it despite the lack of an audience, but it was impossible to deny a few things. The biggest was that with the exception of 'mild' every last 'requirement' of his could be met by the very lady he was about to marry. And the second biggest was that he was already in love, but her heart did not return it. And probably never would, which depressed him more than his sudden realization.

The implications were not what he wanted to think about. Especially not on a hangover. Alcohol never improved a fowl mood or thoughts. Never mind his frustration from only having his hand for company. He was hardly innocent but he had limited himself not only to barren but more expensive entertainments. At least he could be certain he would not make Beatrice ill from any negligence.

And the distraction that came was also nothing he wanted to experience. “Ha!” he groaned. “the Prince and  _Monsieur Love_ !” He lowered his glasses and pushed to his feet. “I will hide me.” And just barely slipped behind a pillar before four men came along.

“Come, shall we hear this music?” boomed Don Pedro as he led Claudio and Leonato nearby. Balthasar followed and sat at ready with his guitar.

“Yea, my lord,” said Claudio, moving to make it easier to pretend that he didn't see Benedick reaching for his can and going back into hiding. “How still the morning is, as hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!”

Don Pedro hid a smile. Not the least that it was barely still 'morning'. “See you where Benedick hath hid himself?” he quietly asked.

“O, very well, my lord,” Claudio promised, then stood to the side to ensure he was in a place to annoy the plainly hung-over Benedick before they got him.

Then Don Pedro called for music, which Balthasar agreed to with some reluctance. The song, addressing women who were deceived by men, was sure to grate Benedick's nerves for various reasons, but also because Balthasar's voice – which while not the most pleasing sang more than well enough – was sure to increase Benedick's irritation. Increasing the irritation so his mind was not at its sharpest would leave him more vulnerable when they began the proper deception.

The Prince felt a little bad about doing it, but he could see no other way to convince either to let go of their anger toward the other for whatever argument had triggered the merry war that Leonato spoke of.

Sure enough, Benedick's hangover was severe enough to not only get paint on his hand whilst silently mocking the singing but condemn the singing itself with a biting remark: “And he had been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him!”

Don Pedro waited for Balthasar to leave and then waved Claudio to check on Benedick. They needed to make sure he was in the right frame of mind.

Benedick did not see Claudio checking on him as he was putting down his can and then leaning against the paint car with the elbow of his clean arm so he could rub his forehead. He kept the other open yet resting on his hip, and yawned.

“Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told of me to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love?!”

Benedick stiffened. What?!

“And with of all men Senor Benedick?!”

Benedick's hand slammed on one paint item, sending it to the floor loudly. He hurried away to avoid discovery, and to get closer to listen in.

Claudio's voice was the next thing he heard clearly. “I did never think that lady would have loved any man.”

Leonato's voice was next. “No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she should so dote on Senor Benedick, whom she hath in all outward behaviours seemed ever to abhor even though he hath defended her honour.”

Benedick had to pull his glasses off. “Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner?” He had to move back to hide his glasses, but kept close enough to hear more.

“By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it but that she loves him with an enraged affection; it is past the infinite of thought,” declared Leonato, knowing his part was to paint a convincing picture.

Don Pedro had to ensure Benedick was listening. “Maybe she doth but counterfeit.”

“Faith, like enough,” added Claudio.

By this time Benedick had pressed his back to another pillar, close to Leonato to hear a plain insistence.

“O God, counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of passion came so near the life of passion as she discovers it!”

“Why, what effects of passion shows she?” asked Don Pedro.

Benedick could swear Claudio said something, but he was too focused on trying to hear what Leonato had to say.

“What effects, my lord?” Leonato stammered. “She will... sit you... you heard my daughter tell you how.”

“How, how, pray you?” cried Don Pedro, trying desperately to cover for Leonato's near slip. “You amaze me!” He had to struggle to find words to carry on the slight deception. “I should have thought her spirit had been invincible against all assaults of affection.”

Benedick nearly shook his head. “I should think this a gull, but that Leonato speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.”

But he had to move when Don Pedro asked whether Beatrice had made her affection known, and continued to when Leonato answered in a negative. He had to not be discovered; he had to know more to be sure.

“Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: 'Shall I,' says she, 'that have so often encountered him with scorn, write to him that I love him?'” said Claudio from the other side.

Leonato made noises of agreement. “She tears the letter into a thousand halfpence.”

Benedick rushed to hear better and knelt low to witness Claudio fall to his knees to emphasize his next words about Beatrice's torment at the hands of her own feelings. “Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; 'O sweet Benedick! God give me patience!'”

The surprise was enough for Benedick to rub his face slowly and let the hand slide a little down his chest out of habit. Only he promptly remembered that was the paint-covered hand. He jumped back into hiding, trying to rub off some of it.

Only Leonato came to the other side of the pillar as he struggled to remove the paint. “She doth indeed; my daughter says so: she rails at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her even once bound to be wed; and the ecstasy hath so much overbourne her that my daughter is sometimes afeared she will do a desperate outrage to herself!”

The sight of Leonato miming slitting wrists nearly stopped Benedick's heart. Could Beatrice truly be in such despair?! How much of it was his own doing?!

It was just as well he could not see Don Pedro and Claudio silently warning Leonato that his words were perhaps going too far.

“It were good that Benedick knew of it by some other, if she will not discover it,” suggested Don Pedro.

The sound of the trio moving closer forced Benedick to adjust to his position, whilst Claudio declared, “To what end? He would make but a sport of it torment the poor lady worse in despite of the respect he paid her by offering his protection in marriage.”

Benedick numbly reached for his can, which in his shock he failed to realize was not where he had left it. And Don Pedro's next words left him even more numb.

“And he should, it were an alms to hang him. She's an excellent sweet lady; and, out of all rational suspicion, she is virtuous.”

“And she is exceeding wise,” added Claudio, unaware that Benedick was about to take a sip.

Don Pedro agreed. “In every thing but in loving Benedick.”

Benedick spewed his soda. Not as much from the words but from the taste of cigarettes in his can. O God, who had done it! Had his friends thought it was done merely because it was not attended to?!

He was trying to rinse out his mouth and therefore missed Leonato's words. But he did not miss Don Pedro's response:

“O that this lie had not been committed against her! If not for that I would she had bestowed this dotage on me: I would have doffed all other respects and made her half myself.”

Benedick nearly choked on his breath. The Prince had considered her a possible future Queen?! O God, how could he have competed with that?!

He was so lost in his thoughts as he was trying to use a towel to remove the paint that he was startled by the boy appearing with his book. He nearly cried out in shock.

“Sir, I have your book, and I beg an audience with thee!” pleaded Bruno.

Such words were repeated as Benedick tried to run away without attracting the attention of those he was trying to overhear. He finally had to throw the book, as much as he liked the volume, and quietly snap, “Leave! I cannot have them find me!”

Bruno walked slowly away, dejected. What now? He looked at the men, hoping that maybe they would consider hearing him. But one look of Leonato's told him that he would be beaten if he interrupted them.

As distracted as he was with trying to clean himself off, Benedick's could not help but began to hear once again what the others were saying. Starting with the Prince: “Well, I am sorry for your niece: tis enough to be falsely accus'd and endure scorn; worse to be bound to a man who doth not respect her beyond as a sparring partner. Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love?”

Claudio protested immediately, “Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with good counsel as her gentlewomen may provide once married.”

“Nay, that's impossible: she may wear her heart out first,” proclaimed Leonato.

“Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: let it cool the while as best as may be given the wedding on the morrow,” advised Don Pedro, having hopped to check that Benedick was still listening. “I love Benedick well; and I could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see how much he is unworthy to have so good a lady: we may only pray that he prove even the slightest bit of the husband Beatrice doth deserve.”

That stalled what little effort Benedick was making in trying to remove paint, which had only seemed to be making it spread more. The towel slowly dropped from his hand as it dawned on him that he had much to answer for.

It was just as well that Leonato invited the others to walk to the early dinner. He had to wait until he was certain he could no longer hear their voices before he dared step forward.

Benedick took several loud, shallow breaths as he tried to calm his heart with no success. All he could do was put on hand on his hip and raise his right to motion toward the men who walked away. He could also do nothing about the huge smile that crossed his face and stuck fast like a snagged thing in the thorns.

“This can be no trick!” he exclaimed once he could locate his voice. “The conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero!” His hand lowered after pointing with force. “They seem to pity the lady, and justly so if they spoke but true: it seems her affections have the full bent. Love... me?” He paused, and looked himself over very slowly. The paint hardly registered with his awareness anymore. He was more looking at his slender limbs and thinking over his choices that Beatrice would know about. Memories of how he treated her flashed before his eyes. “ _Why_ ?” It seemed fantastical. How could such a lady gain such feelings in her heart for him after how he treated her?!

He suddenly shook it off as a new determination hit him, his head shaking against the weight of every accusation against him. It was a gift from Heaven and he had to grab it with both hands! “It must be completely requited! I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection for fear of being seen as weak. I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis so, I cannot permit any to claim to reprove it; and wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, not so great argument of her folly, for I will be... and already am... and shall remain...  _horribly_ in love with her!”

He practically jumped in the air as he pumped his hands. He stood grinning like a mad fool, the jester she had accused him of being out of frustration with his actions that day. Even when his wit returned the smile did not quite go away.

“I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage or love: but... doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No! The world must be... peopled.”

He trailed off because the thought of the pair of them engaged in making the beast with two backs was thrilling. More thrilling than his imagination had previously provided or his reason had allowed. He prayed that Beatrice's earlier claims would prove wrong, that her fields yet remained fertile. And that she would bestow even half the passion on him that he knew he would give to her in the marriage bed.

“When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married; and I had not dreamt that love could possibly enter into the realm.” His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by approaching footsteps and he nearly squawked from the surprise. “Here comes Beatrice!” He exclaimed wordlessly and folded his arms to keep his eagerness in check. “By this day! She's a fair lady!” He turned his head to smile at her, forgetting completely about his appearance.

Beatrice had been interrupted in eating her soup, and she had brought it with her to continue eating; she did not care what any thought of her within her uncle's house. But the sight of Benedick looking utterly ridiculous was not exactly something to inspire her to a better mood. Nay, more like to bring up what little she  _had_ eaten. She hardly noticed his grin, and she groaned in exasperation. Such was her comfort in her home at present that she felt free to reach through her loose trousers and tug her pants into a more comfortable position.

Benedick saw it all with the eyes of a man drunk with love. He wished he could have made her more comfortable himself. “I do spy some marks of love in her,” he told himself.

She exhaled sharply, determined to get her command over with. “Against my will I am sent to you come in to dinner,” she snapped.

“Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains,” he said, making a slight bow, one leg sliding slightly toward her in the process.

It was an odd sight, the bit of courtly behavior when he was wearing a Superman t-shirt and cut-off jeans stained with white paint, and odder still hearing such words coming from him. “I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would not have come.” She made a choking noise and put her free hand on her hip as she looked away.

Somehow anger now made her even more beautiful. Nothing could take away the smile from Benedick's face.

Beatrice noticed the unusual look, and thinking it a different form of their merry war mocked it with a false smile and batting eyelashes.

Naturally a man in Benedick's mindset took  _anything_ and  _everything_ as encouragement. “You take pleasure then in the message?”

She made a open gesture. “Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point and choke a daw withal!”

Her motions as though she had a knife were engaging and even quite entertaining to Benedick, who nearly bent over from the effort to not laugh out loud or reach out to her.

Beatrice shook her head. Had he drank himself into the worst stupor of his life? Would he be in a right state to be married in the morning? Instead she said, “You have no stomach, Senor: fare you well.”

As she left earshot, Benedick had to reflect with another huge smile. “'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner'... double meaning in that! 'I took no more pains for those thanks than you took pains to thank me.' Well... that's as much to say, Any pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do not take pity on her, I am more a villain than those who accus'd us.... If I do not love her with all I have and be the husband she dreamt of, I am a fool.”

He found his sunglasses and looked back her way before he found his wit again. “I will go... get her picture!” He put his glasses back on and marched to his room, but not before he would summon the barber's man.

 

Chapter Four: [She's Lim'd!](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91811.html)


	4. She's Lim'd!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to tardis_mole for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** : tkel_paris  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** : sykira. You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to tardis_mole for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.  
  
This chapter is a little short, but I think it's perfect the way it is.  
  
  
  
  
**Thou Wilt Quake For This**  
  
**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**  
  
  
  
  
[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/90765.html) / [Chapter Two](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91287.html) / [Chapter Three](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91533.html)  
  
  


**CHAPTER FOUR: SHE'S LIM'D!**  
  
Beatrice returned to her earlier place in the parlour, where Don Pedro and Claudio happened to be. She was willing to speak with them to ease her temper before she had to see her uncle again. She was praying for a little peace. Thankfully the lords were willing to be cheerful and let her exercise her wit on whatever matter the conversation took.  
  
Unfortunately Margaret's running to her side ruined that wish.  
  
“What mean you interrupting, Fool?” Beatrice snapped.  
  
Margaret leaned in to whisper. “My lady, I passed my Lady Hero and my mother walking about in the gardens near the painters' improvements: their whole discourse is of yourself, my lady. Steal to where you may overhear, for I know you cannot bear to have others speaking of thee behind thy back.”  
  
Beatrice needed no further encouragement. “I thank you, Margaret; you may indeed be a worthy waiting gentlewoman to my cousin.”  
  
As Beatrice ran in her flats, she did not see Margaret sharing a satisfied look with the lord left behind with barely a word of apology. The second trap was now to be sprung at any moment. They had no doubt that between Hero, who had known Beatrice all her own life, and Ursula, who had known both Ladys for all their lives, that it would be well placed.  
  
Beatrice nearly slid trying to stop her running, and hid briefly behind the painters' cart before hiding by closer pillars.  
  
“No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; I know her spirits are as coy and wild as haggerds of the rock,” proclaimed Hero.  
  
Beatrice groaned silently, not seeing the paint cans nearby.  
  
Then she heard Ursula ask, “But are you sure that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?”  
  
Her foot hit the paint cans before she could think when she tried to get closer. Beatrice paused, hoping to get the pain in said foot under control.  
  
“So says the Prince and my new-trothed lord,” said Hero.  
  
“And did they bid you tell her of it, madam?” asked Ursula as she went about putting the cans away.  
  
Beatrice stumbled into the open from the pain, and realized she had to hide under a handy painters' cloth.  
  
“They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; but I persuaded them-” Hero squeaked, pausing in her speech until her voice sounded a bit further away than before. “...if they loved Benedick, to wish him wrestle with affection, and never to let Beatrice know of it.”  
  
Having knelt slowly, the words made Beatrice turn sharply. What?! She hoped she would not be noticed as she crept closer.  
  
“Why did you so?” asked Ursula. “Doth not the gentleman deserve as... full and fortunate a bed as ever Beatrice shall couch upon as they are to marry?”  
  
“O god of love! I know he doth deserve as much as may be yielded to a man.”  
  
Ursula squealed suddenly, making Beatrice wonder what was happening. She had already stopped, not willing to risk moving any further.  
  
Hero continued, after an answering brief squeal. “But Nature never framed a woman's heart of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, misprising what they look on, and her wit values itself so highly that to her all matter else seems weak: she cannot love.”  
  
While Hero spoke Beatrice was vaguely aware of the wind shifting her cover near her bottom, but she had not suspicion that Ursula was at fault instead until that moment when suddenly she was tugged into the air. She flapped and struggled against the cover as she went up and down. She was too distracted to hear Hero's continued words, but not Ursula's response.  
  
“Sure, I think so; and therefore certainly it were not good she knew his love, lest she make sport of it.”  
  
Indignation and fury allowed Beatrice to toss the article off, blustering until she noticed her top was in danger of falling. “O my god!” she breathed, too distracted to even hope she was not overheard.  
  
Suddenly up consistently Beatrice tried to get either of the painters to let her down somehow, but both seemed to act like they were under orders to finish their work. She dared not think that they were somehow in league with her cousin and the older gentlewoman.  
  
As such she heard nothing clearly – though she was very aware that Hero was speaking nonetheless – until Ursula spoke again. “Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.”  
  
“No,” continued Hero, “not to be so odd and from all fashions as Beatrice is, cannot be commendable. But who dare tell her so?”  
  
Beatrice nearly panicked when she was lowered, but not enough to get purchase on the ground so she could remove the hook that was responsible for her plight.  
  
“If I should speak, she would mock me into air,” Hero insisted, pausing only when Ursula made a laugh suddenly. Not that that lady's sense of humor was easily understood. “O, she would laugh me out of myself, press me to death with wit. Therefore let Benedick like cover'd fire, consume away in sighs, waste inwardly.”  
  
No, Beatrice mouthed. No, he could not! He ought not!  
  
“It were a better death than die with mocks, which as bad as die with tickling.”  
  
Beatrice fought anew to free herself, but only for the moment between Hero's words and when Ursula interrupted.  
  
“Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say.”  
  
“No; rather I will go to Benedick and counsel him to fight against his passion, especially on their wedding night. Even urge him to leave her alone to spare them both pain.”  
  
That alarmed Beatrice, and made her heart sink. No wedding night?! Where before the idea appealed slightly given her indignation, now it was wholly unattractive to her being. The idea that he would restrain his own passion felt like a knife wound to her stomach. She wanted – nay, _needed_ – to know what he could teach her in their bed!  
  
“And, truly, were it not for the dreadful lies that hath forced them to marry I would devise some honest slanders to stain my cousin with: one doth not know how much an ill word may empoison liking.”  
  
If Beatrice had been able to reach far enough, Hero would have been strangled for that. But all it did was make her nearly flip over, and struggle to get herself upright again mid-air.  
  
“O, do not _think_ your cousin such a wrong. She cannot be so much without true judgment – having so swift and excellent a wit as she is prized to have – as to refuse to honour so rare a gentleman as Senor Benedick.”  
  
“His acts when the slanders were made prove he is the only man of Italy. Always excepted my dear Claudio, may he never have to prove it.”  
  
“I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, speaking my fancy: Senor Benedick, for shape, for bearing, argument and valour, goes foremost in report through all the lands,” proclaimed Ursula. “Even the Prince hath said so.”  
  
“Indeed, he hath an excellent good name which he hath used to protect my cousin.”  
  
“His excellent did earn it, ere he had it. When are you married, madam?” asked Ursula as the pair rushed off, just as Beatrice went toward the sky again.  
  
Once again she could not make out the words, but she was left to wonder if someone knew of her presence and decided to have sport with her. It was cruel given all she had to deal with, but she knew she was not the most well-respected person within the house who was not a servant.  
  
Never did she know relief so great as when she was finally lowered far enough that she could touch her feet to the ground and free herself from the hook. She needed a moment to compose herself from her anger, and then to reflect on what she heard. She had never known her cousin to speak mistruths, and Ursula was known for her own honesty.  
  
All effort to remain calm burst away in an explosion of feeling.  
  
“What...?!” She could barely draw the needed breath to voice her thoughts. “... fire is in mine ears? _Can_ this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? Contempt, farewell! And maiden pride, adieu! No glory lives behind the back of such. Might it be that in temper'd zest, my heart follow on in polite refrain, and love in equal measure once what it scorn'd and derided much? But as yet it holds back in dark light of deceit; coupled are we, bound by malice and scorn, but honour hath its own revenge. I feel the burn of lost freedoms more so now than ever. The future, like mine guiltless shame, ne'ver seemed so dark for me.”  
  
Then her mind drifted to the hope she did have now. “And, Benedick... love on! I will requite three, taming my heart to thy loving hand: if thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee to bind our lives up in a holy band; for others say thou dost deserve, and I believe it better than reportingly.”  
  
She tried to calm herself, but joy this expansive could not be long suppressed. She shrieked and bounced like a little child, and skipped off toward her room. Time to make herself into the bride Benedick would adore completely, the version of her that he knew was within.  
  
  
Chapter Five: [An Honest Young Gentleman](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91971.html)


	5. An Honest Young Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[tardis_mole](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** : [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/). You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.  
  
  
  
  
**Thou Wilt Quake For This**  
  
**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**  
  
  
  
  
[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/90765.html) / [Chapter Two](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91287.html) / [Chapter Three](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91533.html) / [Chapter Four](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91811.html)  
  
  


**CHAPTER FIVE: AN HONEST YOUNG GENTLEMAN**  
  
Bruno had struggled and felt heavy. The deception would take place tonight and he was yet to get anyone to listen to him.  
  
He had tried to speak with Leonato and Innogen that morning, but neither was willing to listen; they merely sent him off before he could speak of what he wanted to, and once a servant was dismissed they could not speak without risking a flogging. The same for when he approached his grandmother under the guise of requesting help with his Rubic's cube. Bruno had no wish to be flogged, for a servant sent for flogging would not be listened to.  
  
Senor Benedick had been in a sorry state that morning as well, and only wanted the book. And yet when Bruno brought it to him he had thrown it. Why had he been hiding? And why was he covered in white paint?  
  
The Lady Hero was not an option to speak with, either; for all she respected his mother Maria, she only noted him when she needed something. And now her focus was entirely on the wedding.  
  
Which was very bad, for the deception was to take place tonight. Bruno had almost no time left to convince anyone who could act to listen to him! Worst of all, he was under orders to bring items to one part of the house and return promptly to another.  
  
He was on his way back when he heard a joyful shrieking that made him start. Who was making a racket this time?  
  
Beatrice skipped into the room on her way toward hers. She was beaming with joy and her voice was making sounds that were not understandable.  
  
Here, here was his last, best chance to be heard; for the lady was known to listen to servant concerns and treat them fairly. And the only person he had yet been unable to attempt to speak with. He took a deep breath and put himself directly in her path. “Lady Beatrice!” he saluted.  
  
She drew abruptly to a halt and struggled to compose herself. The alarm on the lad's face sobered her mood instantly. “Yes, Bruno, what is it? What concerns thee?”  
  
“I overheard last night of a plot to disgrace the lady Hero, but no one will listen to me.”  
  
She froze. “Yea, against Hero, you say?”  
  
“Yes, my lady; and the same villains are responsible for your impending marriage.”  
  
Now her attention was entirely captured. Benedick was right; a servant might overhear far more than the villains thought possible, and a child servant was easily underestimated. But here was the information they sought! “And _no one_ will listen?”  
  
“None will grant me a moment to speak of it for I am but a child, and a servant at that. I am merely ordered about and am expected to return to the kitchens soon.”  
  
The news did not surprise her, but she would hardly let that stop either of them. “Come! I shall say that I need thy help; that shall protect thee from flogging. Then we must find Senor Benedick, for he will know what to do and be able to act upon it! Does thou know where he went?”  
  
He decided to not mention the book confusion, or the paint that covered the lord. “I saw him heading for his rooms over an hour ago at least, and I heard a request sent for the barber's man to come to him.”  
  
That made Beatrice pause a moment but she promptly shrugged. “Perhaps he must get himself groomed for the morrow.” She managed to conceal her imagination's rapid pondering of what his face would look like without his beard, a thought that made her heart quicken. “Come, we shall chance the censure of our fellows and attend him; there shall you make us aware of all you know, and then he and I shall determine how to act upon thy knowledge. Come along!” She took his hand and led him off.  
  
He took a huge breath of relief. He was being listened to! The Lady Hero might be saved, and the Lady Beatrice's honor fully restored!  
  
/=/=/=/  
  
“I thank thee for thy pains,” Benedick said, sending the barber's man off with a smile and payment.  
  
The man nodded and bowed before walking off.  
  
Sighing, Benedick looked in the mirror and ran his hands over his newly shaven face. How long had it been since he lacked a beard? He had still been a youth, he was sure of it. Yet here he was, having recalled something Beatrice had once said in one of their verbal duels; if the lady who was to be his – even by lack of choice on either of their parts regardless of their hearts' hidden wishes – seemed to wish a man to willingly go without a beard on his face then he would oblige her. A small price to pay for her sake.  
  
And he was free of the paint now. He had clean clothes on, if not the greatest, and was about to finish preparing for the night's events.  
  
Except for whatever Don Pedro intended for two men ending their bachelor days. He groaned, wondering how he could escape the “entertainment” of the evening. All he wished to see was Beatrice's skin, to let her learn how he could be tempted into “improper” behavior behind closed doors and to introduce her to the activities of the marriage bed. It would be different to bed a beloved wife than a whore, after all. Much more satisfying, especially once he had educated her and taught himself her preferences.  
  
His man suddenly came to his side. “Sir?”  
  
“What is it? Thou lookst positively baffled.”  
  
The shifting of feet confirmed the master's words. But each of Benedick's men knew to not keep him waiting. “Sir, the Lady Beatrice is with a very young gentleman of her uncle's; she says the boy hath urgent knowledge for the both of you and she brought him here as soon as he made her aware of it. She says they shall not depart without speaking with you, but says the three of you must speak without being overheard for the boy seems uncertain who to trust with the knowledge he hath.”  
  
He frowned. Beatrice was a lady of virtue, he knew that in his heart, and she knew how to judge a servant's word; so what could have possibly convinced her to risk coming to him without a proper chaperon – a matter very important given the slander that forced them to wed – when she was so determined to not let him know of her feelings? Could this servant have the knowledge they sought? “I shall go to them directly. Lead me to them and do not speak of their coming.”  
  
His man did, and he found them standing impatiently in the hall leading to the guest quarters.  
  
Benedick sent his man off with a nod, and he steeled himself to face the lady in full knowledge that his feelings were completely engaged. “Lady Beatrice. Forgive me, but I cannot recall this young gentleman's name even though we spoke earlier today.” Any other time he would have called him 'Boy', but if his man had referred to him as a young gentleman then he would do the same. Very likely Beatrice had referred to him as such, and the man had not wished to endure her tongue – even with her unable to hear him.  
  
Beatrice started upon hearing his voice, and more so at the sight of his shaven face. He had chosen to lose his beard! He had heard her that one time! It was almost enough to derail her thoughts.  
  
But she recovered herself by recalling his own uncertainty of her feelings. “This is Bruno, son of Maria and Balthasar, who are both in my uncle's service. He hinted to me of something urgent, but I do not know who can be trusted to overhear whilst he speaks of what he knows.”  
  
Blinking at her agitation and the obvious nervousness of the lad that was attempting to be concealed, he nodded. At last his own words had proved to be prophetic! “There is a garden already attended to, with benches and bowers,” he softly suggested. “I believe we can speak there whilst not being overheard.”  
  
He led them to his favorite spot, where he knew the gardeners had already seen to early this morning and would therefore leave alone the rest of the day. There were two good seats, one which could take two people. Beatrice and Bruno promptly took that one.  
  
Once seated across from them, Benedick looked Bruno in the eye. “Well, Bruno, thou hast risked a great deal to speak with this lady; that I can see in thy eyes. First let me apologise for mine actions this morning. Suffice to say that I had left my body in a poor state after the revels, unable to hear a request; and then thy unwittingly timed thy return with my book poorly, though it was not thy fault. What news hath so alarmed thee to insist on such secrecy?”  
  
The apology was unexpected, but welcome. Bruno felt Beatrice's encouraging hand take his, and he found his courage after looking at her. “Last night was I cleaning after the revels when I overheard Don John complaining that Count Claudio would marry the lady Hero, and one of his men – the one with the beard – said he could cross it.”  
  
Both adults stiffened. “Borachio,” Benedick ground out, his voice dark. “Tell us what he plans.”  
  
“He told Don John to lure the Prince and the Count to a place where he intended to make them see him courting my aunt Margaret privately, where he would call her 'Hero' to make the Count think my lady Hero a... stale.”  
  
Beatrice gasped. “The height of villainy!” she breathed. “Dishonouring my kinswoman by lies! And using her own gentlewoman to do it!”  
  
“But there is more, my lord and my lady!”  
  
Benedick wished to take Beatrice's hand in support, but it was perhaps too soon. “Speak, then. So the Prince's brother approved this?”  
  
“Yes, sir, and this was not the first time they have plotted to disgrace someone. I overheard them say that they had plotted together to create the moment that forced thee to wed.”  
  
Both adults were silent for a long moment.  
  
“Did they speak of how they did it?” demanded Benedick.  
  
“No, sir; their words did tell me that they put into practice the whispers that made my Lady Beatrice seem to have been alone with thee for too long, and that thou had taken liberties not permitted to an unwed couple; from what the bearded one said I fear my aunt was beguiled with drink and made to unknowingly create the illusion.”  
  
Benedick's face turned grim whist Beatrice's paled. She shook her head. “Foolish Margaret!” she snapped, trying to keep her voice quiet. “Thou must know that he cannot afford a wife, nor wish for one! And still thy leaves Titus' suit aside for a man who can only bring thee ruin?! And he is about to do it again!”  
  
Bruno looked pained at the thought. “What can be done? No one else will listen to me, so how canst this plot be prevented?”  
  
Benedick thought a long moment. “The difficulty is that they must be caught in the act of a villainy; I fear that we must let them deceive Claudio, but have witnesses to disprove the claims. Beatrice, this plan of Borachio's rests on the assertion that Hero is left alone to act in an unchaste manner; do not leave her side tonight for even a moment, for if thou can attest to being her bedfellow this night then the world – especially the Prince – would respect that I am honour-bound to defend thy testimony. Troth, even an enraged Claudio would know it was expected of me, and the Prince would believe thy words. I shall collect men of mine whose loyalty I can be assured of to follow Don John and his men from a distance; the Prince hath had me keep watch like a faint shadow on his brother's actions before, and I know mine men despise John the Bastard as much as I doth. Knowing that drink shall be flowing, I know Borachio shall likely brag to Conrade of his exploits, and then can we and the Prince's Watch arrest him. Perhaps Conrade as well if he owns up to any part.”  
  
“What if they doth not brag?” asked Bruno. “I heard the Prince's brother say that his gentleman had a role in the lies against yourselves, but he spoke of no particulars.”  
  
“Then we shall have my men as witnesses to what they did to slander Hero. I shall do everything to escape the festivities to be a witness myself.”  
  
Bruno knew he had to be satisfied, but he was young enough to worry still.  
  
Beatrice took his hand. “Fear not, young Bruno. No man is more honourable than Senor Benedick, and if he gives his word that something shall be done then it shall.”  
  
Benedick felt his spirits lift at her confidence in him.  
  
Bruno nodded. “I must return to my duties before my grandmother decides I have left them too long. I am to help my father this night.” At the nods from both adults he rushed off.  
  
Beatrice sighed and made to get up. Now alone with him, she felt a need to depart. “I thank you for hearing him, Senor: you were right that a servant may hear where villains doth not expect; and now I must bid you farewell until the morrow.”  
  
“Please stay a moment more, Lady Beatrice,” Benedick begged. “You doth have confidence in my ability to protect our cousin, do you not? Is it not my office to defend Hero?”  
  
“Yea, but I am alarmed; how easy it is for a man to ruin a woman, and if she doth not have someone to protect her rights then she is undone.” Her voice caught, realizing how even some protection was worthless if the men in question did not trust the woman's own judgment. Now she understood how easily her uncle had been played for a fool, and how this latest plot could very well succeed even with Benedick knowing of it.  
  
“Thy rights I shall always defend. Did I not promise such when we were forced into this engagement? And that thee should never find thyself imposed upon by anyone, including myself?”  
  
She blushed slightly. “I thank thee, Senor, for a lady's honour be so protected by men such as thee. Perhaps...” She paused, swallowing her nervousness down. The words were dangerous, but she could not rest without voicing them, in the prayer that he would understand. “Perhaps if events had not overtaken us and we had acted freely, maybe then happiness would have been more than a dream. Maybe a merry war would have ended as a skirmish and not a battle. Perhaps even love might have been a welcomed bedfellow with happiness, except for you and I.”  
  
He noticed her unease and hesitation. But her words shocked him. She was willing to risk something rather close to a declaration when she feared he would scorn it? A confession promptly slipped out of his mouth: “I do love nothing in the world so well as you.”  
  
She gasped, stopping in place and turning slowly to look at him in shock.  
  
He squirmed but took nothing back. “Is not that strange?”  
  
“As strange as the thing I know not.” She cleared her throat, wringing her hands as she tried to find an answer. “It were as possible for me to say I love nothing so well as you.”  
  
When she gasped at actually saying that aloud, he stood as his hopes soared.  
  
A lifetime of “But believe me not. And yet I lie not. I confess nothing! Nor I deny nothing-”  
  
He had to speak, to distract her from panicking as she put a bench between them. And his choice slowly brought a grin to his face. “By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me.”  
  
Beatrice slapped her hands on the bench and snapped. “Do not swear upon it and eat it.”  
  
He rested his hands on the bench, away from hers as he had to raise his head to the sky to pray silently for the patience he needed to convince her; he knew better than anyone that passion made anyone less than rational and they had so much to lose if either of them mucked things up again. “I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make him eat it that says I love not you.”  
  
She leaned in, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Will you not eat your word?”  
  
He leaned closer, keeping about a foot between their heads. “With no sauce that can be devised to it.”  
  
Silence lasted for a long moment between them, eying each other to test the other's feelings.  
  
He broke it first, his face cracking into a huge smile as he spoke. “I protest... I love thee!”  
  
She squealed and jumped up and down, hardly able to remain still. It was louder than her earlier acts of a woman learning her most wished-for, hidden dream was coming true.  
  
Benedick was grinning just as widely, but his honor reminded him that they might attract attention. He motioned for her to be quiet.  
  
Beatrice realized it as soon as he began motioning. “Oh, shoot! Why then, o may god forgive me!'”  
  
“What offence, sweet Beatrice?”  
  
“You have stayed me in a happy hour,” she rasped with some difficulty. “I was about to protest that I loved you.”  
  
He was at her side, holding her gently by the arms in an instant. “Then do it with all thy heart!”  
  
“I love you with so much of my heart there is none left to protest.” She squawked in disbelief, drawing away out of reflex.  
  
He didn't like being apart, but he knew better than to approach without warning again. He just held his hands open. “Come, bid me do anything for thee!”  
  
They both burst into laughter at the absurdity of his words given how they had been acting toward each other. But they also both needed to laugh given the tension their and Hero's situation inflicted on them.  
  
At length Beatrice recovered her composure and gasped as she regained control of her voice. Benedick silenced his laughter to listen.  
  
“Would thou wish to be bound to me if these villains had not created this deception? Wouldst thou be a man for my sake, protect mine rights... or shall I discover I hath merely exchanged one ruler for another?”  
  
He stared at her, stricken.  
  
“Wilt thou be like my uncle, or prove to be above the mettle of the valiant dust, the wayward marl?”  
  
He stepped forward, being careful to not step too close. “I had not given the matter thought that I would wish to own up to, but mark my words; thy rights I shall guard and my first proof shall be in defending our cousin. I vow to see thy family's traditions upheld, making them my own.”  
  
“Even forgoing thy father's?”  
  
He grimaced. “Especially forgoing mine father's, for his place such a narrow role for women that I cannot abide; his beliefs and mine have not agreed since I was a lad. I am sure thine own have not agreed with thy uncle's since not long after thy father's death, and what he sees as curst ways are actually an effort to protect thy rights. I know that only my actions shall reassure thee and therefore I think our efforts must focus on this night, on ensuring that Don John does not succeed in his ultimate quest of ruining Hero and Claudio. On the morrow we shall expose Don John as a villain, and I shall declare that I will have thee freely.”  
  
She found a smile. “I suppose I shall be willing to not deny you. Then you would declare your feelings before the whole assembly, Senor?”  
  
He approached to take her hands. “I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”  
  
She was transfixed, not merely by his words but by the look and pauses that accompanied them.  
  
Sense chose that moment to return to his mind, turning his face flush. “And moreover I will speak with thee to thy uncle.”  
  
She blushed, drew away and nodded. “O god, we nearly acted in the manner of which we were falsely accus'd!”  
  
He took her hands again, even more delicately than before. “After the morrow we may act however we deem suits us and our marriage, with thou in control of thy rightful inheritance and myself holding the titles in name only; but for the night we must part ways to prepare. We neither have much time, I fear; and so farewell until the wedding, my lady.” He kissed her hands tenderly.  
  
She blushed despite herself, and left with a smile, stroking his cheek briefly before stepping away. There was also the barest hint of a skip to her steps. She had faith and confidence in him, and would carry her part out. Now she had to dampen her spirits to act the part expected of her, that of a woman forced.  
  
He watched her until he could not see her any longer before he hurried in the opposite direction. He had men to instruct for the night before he prepared.  
  
He needed the distraction from his own desires, now inflamed by the knowledge that she would be an eager if rather nervous partner in the marriage bed. He had to resolve this dreadful matter first, and then he could give his entire being to loving her completely.  
  
  
Chapter Six: [Mischief Strangely Thwarted](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/92359.html)


	6. Mischief Strangely Thwarted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[tardis_mole](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** : [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/). You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.  
  
Since NaNo is coming up soon, I decided it was time to get more posted whether the recipient is able to comment or not. Besides, I have some other fics I'm trying to finish ASAP. So... here we go!  
  
  
  
  
**Thou Wilt Quake For This**  
  
**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**

 

[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/90765.html) / [Chapter Two](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91287.html) / [Chapter Three](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91533.html) / [Chapter Four](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91811.html) / [Chapter Five](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91971.html)

 

 

 

**CHAPTER SIX: MISCHIEF STRANGELY THWARTED**

Benedick sat down at the local pub, at last able to drink soda out of a bottle – earlier he had had one beer with a sandwich, and to ensure he was sober later on switched to what was called “rum and coke”, or rather cherry syrup and coke, so he could pretend to still be drinking; a deception for a deception – as he rested his preferred drinking hand on the table. Frowning at the noise around him, he took another sip. He saw Don Pedro walk off to collect a drink, so he was certain that he had maybe five minutes to escape before the “entertainment” arrived. He needed to let his men focus on watching the Bastard and his cohorts, not have to help him evade his lord's plans.

He did not consider this disobedient. If anything he was being crafty in order to serve the Prince well. His reputation as a jester, to quote Beatrice from yesternight, would serve him well.

Claudio was speaking with Borachio and the Prince's Messenger, and Conrade was not far off. He could tell that they were plotting something at least for Claudio here at the gathering. He did not want to imagine what they were planning for him, no matter how innocent Claudio or the Prince might think the actions.

Although he had some hope that Don Pedro would remember his words about why he had not sought any of the whores who came near their encampments. Perhaps he would escape this more readily than he feared.

A sudden womanly shout caught his attention and he saw the strangest sight. A lady whom he could not properly see from this distance was carrying something, and another was following and apparently scolding the first. Only when the first ran past did Benedick realize that the ladies' night be beginning. Hero ran after her gentlewoman Margaret, and soon Innogen was chasing Hero after pausing to call someone forward. That someone was Ursula, whose shoe was holding her up until she removed it.

Then he saw who trailed the others. His breath caught despite expecting her.

/=/=/=/=/

Beatrice was not the last one in the group, Maria was. But she was not worried since her aunt was right on Hero's heels. She was content to have a few quiet moments to prepare herself for watching over her cousin without seeming to do so, and more importantly to fortify herself for the events her aunt and the gentlewomen had planned for her and Hero.

Dancers and loud music. She could handle the latter when she got to be on the dance floor, but this? She anticipated feeling a great need for a drink. And yet she knew she had to be careful with those.

Her last act of resistance as an unmarried woman – fulfilling her role for the evening as the unknowing Hero's protector – was to wear whatever she felt like to the party, which meant an unflattering overalls and oversized pink shirt with her favorite sandals. She had no one to impress, and certainly wished to push away attention from herself. It had worked for years.

Shame it had failed to prevent villains from harming her reputation.

She slowly realized someone was watching her. Her eyes drifted to find Benedick staring transfixed. She stilled. Even dressed to not impress he looked at her with admiration. Here was proof of his love!

She exhaled slowly and began walking again to avoid attracting attention. Feeling Benedick's eyes follow her, she turned back while still moving forward. Touching her throat awkwardly allowed her a chance to give him a tiny nod and look of determination. She knew her part, and was trusting him to do his.

/=/=/=/=/

As she walked away he had to take several breaths to compose himself. Not the least because he would be teased extra mercilessly if he gave any signs of love but because he needed all his wits about him to create an escape.

“I do but stay till your marriages be consummate,” declared Don Pedro, stepping forward and carrying a drink with a sparkler on its straw. “And then go on I to Aragon.”

Claudio, beer in hand, protested. “Well, I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll voachsafe me.”

Leonato came up just as the Prince dismissed the offer. “Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss of your marriage as show a child his new coat and... forbid him to wear it.” The stumbling in speech was due to the drink already imbibed. “No, I shall even without Benedick for the first time in years. Ah, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot...” Don Pedro nearly giggled as he stumbled to place the ridiculous drink before Benedick, who leaned away from the concoction. “...he is all mirth: he hath a heart as sound as a bell and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks.”

Although the Prince and his conspirators knew that Benedick was hardly ready to speak of any love. This was for appearances sake.

Benedick pushed the drink away, which smelled too sweet for his stomach no matter the time. What had possessed the Prince to think such a one would be a good idea? Maybe he had right to be worried. “Gallants, I am not as I have been,” he said slowly, measuredly.

Leonato, still standing, fixed a look on him before taking another drink of his spirit. “So say I methinks you are sadder.”

Claudio leaned toward Benedick, holding his own glass. “May we hope he be in love?”

Don Pedro grinned. “Ah, there's no true drop of blood in him, to be truly touched with love: if he be sad, he wants money.”

Benedick knew he had to speak. “I...”

The three men, one still standing, leaned in with immense curiosity.

Benedick leaned back, unwilling to speak of it now. “... have the toothache.” God that was the worst excuse he could have found! His wit could not have been working at a worse state! Had he somehow left it in Beatrice's safekeeping?!

Don Pedro's groan was the loudest, and while Leonato sat down the Prince rubbed his face and exclaimed, “Draw it!”

“Hang it!” snapped Benedick, grabbing his bottle again and taking a long sip.

“You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards,” Claudio contended, highly amused and hiding it poorly.

Don Pedro dropped his hands. “What! Sigh for the toothache?”

“Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it,” challenged Benedick.

Claudio decided to goad him slightly. “Yet say I, he acts in love.”

“Hath any man seen him at the barber's?” asked Don Pedro.

“No,” Claudio admitted, but his feet tap-danced so he faced Leonato – while still remaining seated – as he added, “but the barber's man hath been seen with him.”

“Indeed, he looks young than he had, by the loss of a beard,” noted Leonato, noting the younger man shaking his head.

“And when was he wont to wash his face?” asked Claudio, turning back to face their target.

“Yea, or to paint himself?” joked Don Pedro. Then he quickly adopted an effeminate tone. “For the which, I hear what they say of him.”

Claudio knew he could do better than that, and proved it as he crossed his leg in a manner wholly unlike him and adopted a more extreme speech: “Ooh, indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him!”

As the other two conspirators laughed aloud, Claudio slumped back into a more natural pose for himself, releasing the crossed leg so it could splay like the other.

Don Pedro made a variety of pointing gestures at Benedick with only one hand. “Conclude, conclude he is in love!”

Benedick shook his head tightly, his lips pursed.

“Nay, but I know who loves him!” exclaimed Claudio.

The Prince nodded. “Oh, I warrant, one that knows him not.”

Claudio addressed them all. “Yes, and his ill conditions; and in spite of all, dies for him.”

Drunkenness inspired Don Pedro's next tease. “She shall be buried with her face upwards!” He fell backwards in his chair as they burst into laughter.

“Yet, is this no charm for the toothache?!” Benedick cried as he jumped to his feet, incensed.

It was enough to silence the merriment.

Benedick knew it was time to make his escape. “Uncle, walk aside with me. I have studied eight or nine wise words to speak with you which these hobby horses must not hear.”

Leonato stood, but his stance prevented Benedick from just walking off with him. “Nephew, I believe that if we do you shall miss the events.”

“Sir, I am in no mood for such 'entertainment' in light of my situation. Far more pleasure would be found in speaking with you.”

Not even the Prince protested as Benedick led Leonato off. Instead he waved off anyone from stopping Benedick and – after letting out a low whistle to suggest that perhaps they had taken things too far, for it dawned on him that had he been sober he would  _never_ have uttered that last line – spoke in a low voice to Claudio. “For my life, to break upon him about Beatrice! He is firmly tak'n.”

“'Tis even so. Hero and Ursula have by this played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two bears will not bite one another when they meet at the alter.”

Claudio's laughter stopped briefly as a chair was set beside his and the Messenger made him turn his head. Then the laughing returned with some embarrassed excitement as the dancer tugged him forward. Here was fun!

/=/=/=/=/

Screaming women was an accurate description of the ladies' event, especially Ursula who was shaking from her own excitement as her elder daughter caught the shirt tossed by the dancer. Margaret was merely in the wrong place being too close, but Maria would have gladly let her sister have it.

Beatrice sat across from Hero, who was alternating between embarrassment and just as loud screaming. The younger Lady was enjoying herself despite her very maiden sensibilities. It helped that the dancer was of a similar height and build to Claudio; therefore she could use her imagination to heighten her feelings.

But Beatrice did not find the dancer to her taste, nor was the dancing very engaging to the instincts her aunt was trying to waken. No, she apparently now only needed to  _think_ of Benedick for that. And there was no way that Benedick would ever – not even under a drunken dare – act in such a ridiculous manner. Give her him whispering tempting words, challenging her wit, or holding her close as they finally danced together. Mostly things that only her imagination had thought of, but she looked forward to them.

If she could only not have to worry about her cousin!

The dancer paused in his act, making all of the other women tremble from waiting. Ursula was acting and speaking like she wanted him to remain stopped, but anyone who knew her knew she was merely protesting because she felt she must.

When he removed his pull-off trousers instead of tossing them to the hyper Ursula or the naughty Margaret or the half mortified Hero, he flicked them to Beatrice. Who promptly tossed them away, sending them into Innogen's hands. She even waved the dancer off forcibly when he came near as per his routine.

No man was to come near her. Only Benedick.

She ignored her aunt's soft scolding. She knew only the lies kept her aunt from being more pointed with her remarks about how this would benefit her in marriage.

Yea, only if a lady did not anticipate much from her own husband!

She prayed that Benedick was not enduring anything he did not wish to. Her heart clamped like a dried fig at the thought that he might enjoy a dancer's attentions. Knowing him she doubted it. Especially given the event they were seeking to defend Hero against.

So she was left to endure as best she could.

If only she felt safe to drink!

/=/=/=/

Benedick made it to his men's side, having finally ditched Leonato without the man realizing how he had been used as an excuse to escape being 'treated'. Never mind the more pressing need to hide himself – this time where he could be absolutely certain he would not be detected.

The more he thought about the afternoon's events, and how Leonato and Claudio and the Prince had behaved, he wondered if they had  _known_ he was near and had been making sport of him. His clue was the cigarettes put in his can, which they should have noticed was more than half full and still cold. Ruining a perfectly good soda for a man recovering from drinking!

It made him uneasy. Had they been deceiving him the whole time, aware that he could overhear?

He would be angrier if Beatrice had not assured him of her love, and so he had to assume that they had acted out of concern for her in marriage and possibly for them both. Perhaps the Prince had figured out the meaning of those words spoken when he explained his refusal to go near the camp followers.

He would learn the truth eventually, after he could hold this over Claudio – for the Count would be susceptible to such deception as Don John evidently had in mind. It made Benedick also wonder if the same sort of trick had been played on Beatrice, and reminded himself to ask her as soon as possible.

Well, perhaps  _after_ the wedding night. He had to make that first night as special as possible for her.

The Lieutenant, second in command after his Captain of his men, and Alonso, another of his men, greeted him with a nod. They were silent out of necessity, for Don John was very near. They were also rather close to where Don Pedro was throwing more drink down Claudio's throat as the dancer walked away with her music player, along with the rest of celebrating men, but they were certain they could not be overheard.

A rather girlish giggling “No!” came from the Count, which would have earned him a massive teasing under any circumstance. Only Don Pedro noted his brother's presence and did not tease Claudio. Instead he put down the bottle and undid Claudio's blindfold.

“My lord and brother, God save you!” said Don John, hands in his pockets.

“Good den, brother,” said the Prince, freeing Claudio so he could promptly stand.

Don John was pleased to see that Claudio stumbled ever so slightly. He was in a better state than the night before to be deceived. “If your leisure served, I would speak with you,” he addressed his brother.

“In private?”

“If it please you; yet Count Claudio may hear; for what I would speak of concerns him,” he added, keeping Claudio from leaving.

“What's the matter?” asked the Prince.

Don John turned to Claudio. “Means your lordship to be married tomorrow?”

“You know he does,” said Don Pedro.

“I know not that, when he knows what I know.”

Claudio stiffened. “If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it.”

Benedick's hand clenched the pillar he hid behind. Not for the first time he thought Claudio deserved a good slap upside the head. And he knew the night was going to become much worse.

Lying came naturally to Don John, although he had to focus to not seem too stiff as he addressed Claudio. “You may think I love you not: let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you well, and in dearness of heart hath help to effect your ensuing marriage: --surely suit ill spent and labour ill bestowed.”

“Why, what's the matter?” demanded the Prince.

Don John had been waiting for this moment, where he could properly ill-use his brother and vex Claudio completely. “I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances shortened, for she has been too long a talking of, the lady is disloyal.”

“Who, Hero?” cried Claudio.

“Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero.”

“Disloyal?!”

“The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I could say she were worse: think you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it.”

Benedick's men were as disgusted as he was, and their faces showed it.

“Wonder not till further warrant: go but with me tonight, you shall see her chamber-window entered in the open air, even the night before her wedding-day: if you love her then, tomorrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour to change your mind.”

Claudio was stricken. “May this be so?”

“I will not think it,” declared Don Pedro.

Benedick and his men held their collective breath. There was a chance that the Prince might halt this part of the plot.

However, Don John however knew his brother's weakness. “If you dare not trust that you see, confess not that you know: if you will follow me, I will show you enough; and when you have seen more and heard more, proceed accordingly.”

Claudio collapsed into his chair. “If I see any thing tonight why I should not marry her tomorrow in the congregation, where I should wed, there will I shame her.”

Benedick's jaw clenched.

Don Pedro wished that this was not true, but could his brother conceive such a lie? It was nothing like his previous villainy, and so he saw no choice. “And, as I constrained for thee to woo her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.”

It took a great deal of restraint for Benedick and his men to not react.

“I will disparage her no farther till you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and let the issue show itself.” As there was still the bottle his brother had been using, Don John poured them each a shot in the glasses that happened to be near.

Don Pedro rubbed his face. “O day untowardly turned!”

“O mischief strangely thwarting!” cried Claudio, sitting almost motionless in his chair.

“O plague right well prevented! So will you say when you have seen the sequel,” declared Don John.

The Prince and Count downed their shots, but Don John had another idea as neither of them was looking at him. Never mind that he despised drinking.

Benedick looked to his men after he noted Don John add his shot to Claudio's beer, which Claudio soon after grabbed and downed a good portion of the remainder. “He is ensuring that they are too drunk to question what he shows them.” He scowled. “O how it would have worked had young Bruno not chanced to listen!”

The Lieutenant shook his head. “The good Prince, so mightily abused and yet willing to listen. Where is his good sense, his reason, his restraint? Why doth he not seek others more sober to witness?”

“All part of the Bastard's plan, I am certain,” Benedick mused grimly. “The Prince doth wish to not believe his brother capable of so grave a deceit, and hath been beguil'd by a master of deception. He prays for their father's sake that the Bastard may yet redeem himself. Who is with the Captain in following Borachio?”

“Lucius. Balfor is following Conrade, who was still in company of the others when the event ended.”

It was for the best that the gentleman of Don John's men only had one man trailing him. After all they knew that Borachio needed careful watching. “Excellent. We shall follow these three as soon as they depart for where the ladies are gathered.”

They had to wait a while yet, for the appointed hour according to the Bastard's schedule was not yet come. And endure the horror of seeing him ply the others with more drink.

 

Chapter Seven: [Right Well Prevented](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/92548.html)


	7. Right Well Prevented

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[tardis_mole](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** : [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/). You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.  
  
Will post a chapter a day until this is done. So... three more posts after this.  
  
  
  
  
**Thou Wilt Quake For This**  
  
**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**  
  
  
  
  
[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/90765.html) / [Chapter Two](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91287.html) / [Chapter Three](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91533.html) / [Chapter Four](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91811.html) / [Chapter Five](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91971.html) / [Chapter Six](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/92359.html)

  


**CHAPTER SEVEN: RIGHT WELL PREVENTED**  
  
Beatrice had a massive headache and badly wished for more drink. The dancer – despite the lack of feeling any attraction to him – had left her feeling frustrated in an unpleasant way, only making her wish for the following night when Benedick would join her in bed in what had been her parents' room.  
  
Now she understood a little better why ladies would seek such entertainment. As unknowing as she was, she was certain that some things he would never do; yet the thought of being touched and tempted by Benedick in the marriage bed was keeping her imagination and body aflame. It was yet more fuel for the yearning for drink as a distraction.  
  
And yet remain fairly sober she did, for Hero's reputation depended on it. She kept close to her cousin's side once they departed for the dancing area. She even followed along when Hero and Maria wanted to dance, injecting her own ideas when they paused for a breather. It had them laughing at everything that came from across the pond and what their own sources came up with. The dancing was actually the best part of the evening, almost relieving her of her headache.  
  
Or would have without the volume. These clubs played their music far too loudly. It was not helping her headache. She would need some medicine once they returned to their duplex room, but she had to be certain that she had kept her word.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed men slinking about the shadows. Raising a hand to pretend to wipe away sweat to conceal where her gaze drifted to, she observed a figure she knew to be Benedick slip behind a pillar. If he was present then so were his trusted men, and they had heard more evidence of the plot: so all she had to do was keep to Hero's side.  
  
But when she saw Borachio with a woman she knew to be Margaret, it took all her trust in Benedick to not attempt to aid the plainly drunken gentlewoman. It violated her instincts, but she knew that they had to entrap the villains to be certain that Don John could not harm anyone else and so she pretended to ignore it. Although she knew she could be as blunt as need be if Borachio came too near and appeared threatening to her, and yet she had to act as though she knew not of the plot.  
  
Approach he did, sort of flirting in a semi-drunken manner with first her and then Hero. Beatrice snapped and swatted him, keeping the imaginary bubble around her – which she had cultivated over many years – strong, but it didn't deter him from stealing Hero's veil. She wanted to squawk almost as much as Hero did, but she noticed Innogen rush to Hero's side and start leading her out. That forced Beatrice to do the same, praying that Benedick would see at least one villain captured this night.  
  
She glanced back in his direction, and met his gaze. She gave the tiniest nod and returned her attention to helping her aunt comfort the disconcerted Hero. She would do her part. Now it was all up to Benedick and his men.  
  
/=/=/=/=/  
  
Knowing that Beatrice and Hero were safely out of the way allowed Benedick to concentrate on what Borachio was doing, and how Claudio and the Prince reacted. He was also aware that he had spotted Balfor in the shadows, which meant Conrade was near as well.  
  
Benedick and his men watched in disgust as the now veiled Margaret was coaxed into dancing in ways that would have earned her a smacking from her parents if they knew of it. If she was lucky. And it did not help that the shadows and the color of Margaret's dress helped conceal the height difference and other features that would have exposed it as a deception even as drunk as the Prince and Claudio were.  
  
Now Benedick could imagine how the plot against himself and Beatrice had worked. He and Borachio _could_ be mistaken in the dark for the other, if one could not see well enough to tell the difference in beards apart. While Margaret's body shape was different, Benedick could easily imagine that with Beatrice indisposed Margaret could have been persuaded to wear something that made her look more like her Lady's cousin.  
  
It was sickening. But not as much as what Borachio persuaded Margaret to do as the nail in the coffin. To use a rather unfortunate expression, under the circumstances.  
  
However, the Lieutenant had to hold Alonso back and Benedick had to motion for him to keep quiet, The man's near outburst was because he was a cousin to Angelo, Margaret's father, and known to treat her in a teasing avuncular fashion. Benedick knew this was horrible for his man to have to witness, but he was one of his most trusted men.  
  
Naturally Claudio bought it fully and had to dragged off shouting by the Prince and the Bastard.  
  
Benedick shook his head, and then widened his eyes as the lights darkened. Where was Borachio?!  
  
When they could see properly again, Borachio was gone and Margaret was stumbling on one heel, the other in her hand.  
  
Benedick motioned to Alonso after Margaret to see her safely home. It took a moment and a whisper to make him act:  
  
“Only the villains, the Prince, Claudio, and ourselves saw this. There may yet be a chance she is yet still a maiden; she acts so drunk that I doubt she could have done a full act. But we must be swift!”  
  
He was not about to mention that the frottage they saw – at least what he hoped was such – was allowed under Roman Catholic Church law. Nor was he going to admit how he knew that.  
  
They watched as Alonso approached her just as the two old men who were part of the Prince's Watch for that night also did. He gently chided her as she was helped to sitting so one of the Watch could help her with her heel.  
  
Benedick rubbed his face as he leaned against the pillar. “O god, the dark and the lighting and the drink seduced even the Prince to the Bastard's words! Claudio hath no hope of different. Glad I am not that I drank not more than half of mine and refused the offerings of my lord's hand. This is a devilry that needs a clear head, clear eyes, and a steady speech to tell it”  
  
The Lieutenant stood nearby, his body showing a calm that was belied by his expression. “Aye, Senor, and a co-witness of the same ilk.”  
  
A slight movement caught their eye and they pressed deeper into the shadows. Conrade walked up, and remained unaware of them as he passed by and into the light from the street-lamps. Balfor quietly approached and pressed himself against another pillar, shaking his head in negation at Benedick's silent inquiry.  
  
Sighing, Benedick leaned to see what he could see. The two Watchmen were stepping closer to the shadows, evidently unseen by Conrade, while Alonso walked Margaret away. The expression they could see confirmed that he thought she knew not what was going on, and was perhaps yet still an innocent where it mattered to her ability to marry.  
  
A moment later, they heard Borachio calling out, very near, “What Conrade!”  
  
The trio pressed themselves firmly against the pillars and into the shadows as the plainly drunken villain stumbled sideways toward them. Somehow he missed and entered the lit night, all the while banging against the bags of trash waiting to be collected.  
  
“What Conrade!”  
  
“Here man; I am at thy elbow!” Conrade snapped.  
  
Borachio's voice came clearly. “Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow.”  
  
As the villain spoke, Benedick saw the Captain and Lucius hurry silently to press themselves against another pillar. Good! All of them were present now!  
  
“I will owe thee an answer for that,” Conrade darkly promised. “And now forward with thy tale!”  
  
Oh, this was fortunate! They would have a full confession!  
  
“Stand thee close, then, under this pent-house, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee.”  
  
To Benedick's horror, he could just make out one of the Watch utter, “Some treason, master: yet stand close.”  
  
Worse the two approached from the shadow side of the pillars. Benedick and his men all raised their hands to indicate silence.  
  
Borachio appeared to have detected noise. “Didst thou not hear somebody?”  
  
At that moment a man exited the shadows between the two villains, partly dressed like a soldier. It was quickly clear from how the man looked at Conrade that he was an entertainer.  
  
Fortunately the Watch understood enough and nodded their agreement, moving quietly for their own respective pillars on either side of the already present witnesses. That the Watch was – to Benedick's exacting eye as a commander – two rather inept old soldiers was neither here nor there. They had the authority to carry out the Prince's orders, and could be useful.  
  
“No,” said Conrade, barely reacting with outward disgust at the man's look at him, “he marks us not.”  
  
Benedick let out a silent sigh. The Watch would be witnesses, which was good and bad. Just as well he was also there.  
  
Conrade's words reassured Borachio, who began his tale once the other man had walked off. “Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats.”  
  
All eyes in the shadows widened.  
  
“Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear?” laughed Conrade.  
  
“Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villainy should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will.”  
  
“I wonder at it.”  
  
Borachio scoffed before launching into the tale. “But know that I have tonight wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, and called her by the name of Hero! Woo-hoo!”  
  
The two villains laughed. The men in the shadows remained still, the Watch in horror and the others in grim confirmation.  
  
“I tell this tale vilely:--I should first tell thee how the Prince, Claudio, and my master, planted and placed and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off this _amiable_ encounter,” bragged Borachio.  
  
Conrade was grinning. “And thought they Margaret was Hero, just as they did when thou used Margaret to be thought was Beatrice?”  
  
“Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio;--O how that night rings fairly in my mind! That act of villainy could not have happened without thy knowledge. But thou didst never tell how didst thou know that Benedick would be unable to defend his own honour.”  
  
Conrade laughed. “I chanced to be near enough to hear the Prince speak of the difficulty in Capo Peloro, and order Benedick to slip in the darkness of the night alone to secure the material from the Prince's contact.”  
  
Boarchio hooted. “O how too easy! And the Prince nor Benedick knew!”  
  
The Captain and Lieutenant both noted the tightening of their lord's face. They had wondered why their lord had left them that evening, but now they could each wager a guess what necessitated the business. They knew their lord was trying to not focus on the words he would have to have with the Prince about greater secrecy.  
  
“How didst thou know that Beatrice wouldst have no witnesses to her honour?” Conrade asked, breaking the laughter.  
  
Benedick had long wondered this, and now would he have his answer.  
  
Borachio chuckled wickedly. “Again I owe all to Margaret, who admitted whilst under the effects of drinking a few nights prior that the Lady Beatrice is like clockwork indisposed by an illness that only all women since Eve have known: therefore I was confident that the timing would work; and when Margaret did confirm it did I persuade her to wear items to look like Beatrice in the dark.”  
  
Benedick grimaced. He knew that Beatrice did not have a high opinion of Hero's waiting gentlewoman. Even though Margaret's sister, Maria, was Beatrice's waiting gentlewoman the pair were nothing alike; Margaret was an excitable maiden (with an obvious wild streak) whilst Maria was a happily married woman with children, including the good lad Bruno.  
  
“Alas that thy actions were limited by the Harpy of Messina's reputation,” mourned Conrade.  
  
“Aye, for I could not take the villainy as far as I did this night; still was Don John pleased to shackle the two together, as I know he is pleased with the results of tonight. For the devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any slander than Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning at the temple, and there... before the _whole congregation_... shame her with that he saw o'er night and send her home again without a husband!”  
  
They laughed as Boarchio mimed slapping motions as he spoke.  
  
The Watch members burst forward before Benedick could stop them.  
  
“We charge you in the Prince's name, stand!” cried Hugh Oatcake, brother to the Friar of Messina.  
  
“Stand!” declared George Seacole.  
  
Borachio and Conrade began laughing, mocking them as they called for Constable Dogberry through the radio.  
  
Benedick had had enough. He gestured sharply and his men all moved into the light. The Captain and Lucius grabbing Borachio, and the Lieutenant and Balfor grabbing Conrade. It silenced them cold and turn their faces white.  
  
Then Benedick stepped forward, getting right into the villains' faces, which only made them both tremble.  
  
He gave them a dark and satisfied grin which didn't alter when Dogberry and Virgil arrived. Not even the Constable cocking his rifle could remove the grin.  
  
/=/=/  
  
**End of Chapter Note** : I asked my beta, tardis_mole, for a place name that Benedick could have gone to on the Prince's command. Capo Peloro is, according to Wikipedia, the extreme northeastern tip of Sicily. It's close to Messina so he could've reached there in the time given. It's also a port area, so there'd be merchants and manufacturers to cover whatever the Prince needed.  
  
  
Chapter Eight: [Examinations of Various Types](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/93141.html)


	8. Examinations of Various Types

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[tardis_mole](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** : [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/). You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.  
  
  
  
  
**Thou Wilt Quake For This**  
  
**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**  
  
  
  
  
[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/90765.html) / [Chapter Two](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91287.html) / [Chapter Three](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91533.html) / [Chapter Four](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91811.html) / [Chapter Five](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91971.html) / [Chapter Six](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/92359.html) / [Chapter Seven](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/92548.html)  
  
  


**CHAPTER EIGHT: EXAMINATIONS OF VARIOUS TYPES**  
  
“Leonato won't come?” exclaimed the Captain.  
  
Benedick grimaced, wishing he had access to the training grounds so he could hit things with his sword or do some other physical activity that would release his frustrations in acceptable ways. Pacing here was a bit unseemly. Whilst he strenuously disliked this act of Leonato's, Benedick knew the man was a saint compared with his own father and was the only reason he tolerated the man. Other than that he needed the man's goodwill at least until the marriage. “No, because Dogberry insisted on speaking with him and the governor lost patience before the Constable could mention that I was a witness who would be speaking. Therefore I must see this examination through. Be here as my witness, Captain.”  
  
“None of the others will testify?”  
  
“I doubt they will be needed, knowing the Sexton and Constable Dogberry; yet we shall have them in the room, just in case,” Benedick hinted.  
  
The Captain decided he had best not ask. He would find out soon enough what his lord meant.  
  
So they walked to join the others who were helping the Watch guard Don John's men. Benedick's men had taken great pleasure in binding the villains with duct tape, their hands in front so they could be seen at all times. And the silence from the silent eyebrow raises whenever there was a protest seemed to add to the men's satisfaction.  
  
Benedick's mere presence made both Borachio and Conrade tremble. They might have managed against the Sexton given the Watch and the Constables, but with the Senor and his men they stood no chance of escaping the King's justice.  
  
The Watch came in. Oatcake spoke for them both. “The Sexton has summoned all to come.”  
  
While his men let the Watch assist in bringing the villains into the examination room, Benedick briefly clenched his eyes shut. Given what he knew of Dogberry this would be the greatest trial on his patience.  
  
And he was not mistaken. The Sexton at least had the benefit of being able to sit down and drag a cigarette until he had to actually start writing things down. He had no such comfort.  
  
Dogberry was in fine form, blundering the language and the methods – which surely gave the villains hope that they could yet escape their captivity – until the Sexton finally brought Dogberry to heel:  
  
“Master constable, you know not the way to examine: you must call forth the Watch that are their accusers, and the additional witnesses.”  
  
“Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the Watch come forth,” called Dogberry. As they did, with Seacole stepping in front, Dogberry added, “Masters, I charge you, in the Prince's name, accuse these men.”  
  
Benedick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This display was sublime to the ridiculous. He was certain it was supposed to be 'in the King's name'.  
  
Seacole, his pad of paper out with his notes, began his tale, pointing at Borachio. “This man said, sir, that Don John, the Prince's brother, was a villain.”  
  
“Write down Prince John a villain! Why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince's brother villain,” cried Dogberry.  
  
Boarchio tried to speak. “Master constable,--”  
  
“Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, I promise thee.”  
  
The Sexton mercifully – to Benedick's perspective – took command from his chair. “What heard you him say else?”  
  
Seacole gladly continued. “Marry, that he had received a  _thousand ducats_ of Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully.”  
  
“Flat burglary as ever was committed,” claimed Dogberry.  
  
“Yea, by mass, that it is,” agreed Verges.  
  
“What else, fellow?” pressed the Sexton, leaning forward as his attention was now visibly engaged.  
  
“And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly this day, and  _not_ marry her.”  
  
As the Sexton's eyes widened Dogberry took the pad from Seacole and held it in Borachio's face. “O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting redemption for this.”  
  
Benedick had to rub his face to avoid making a comment, moving it slowly to not make a sound before he let it drop to his side. As someone who believed the language should be used properly it was torture to hear it abused so mightily. Even some of his men were facepalming themselves.  
  
“What else?” demanded the Sexton.  
  
Seacole recovered his pad and allowed Oatcake to step forward to tell the rest: “And that the other man, sir, confessed to aiding this man in accusing Senor Benedick and the Lady Beatrice wrongfully to force them to the altar, and at the instruction of Don John.”  
  
“O villains!” cried Dogberry. “To pervert one marriage and force another is but a dedication in God's sight and a bismerch on the characters of good and honourable noblemen and so fair a lady. How becumbent you have crawled that even the very dogs tower over thee! Pray, thee, I do not whip you like as one for even think to do't!”  
  
Benedick barely suppressed the strangled sounds coming from his throat as he did facepalm himself. Never had he seen a man so ill- educated combined with the finesse of a rotting carcass. What had Leonato been thinking when he allowed this man to become the constable?!  
  
“What else?” said the Sexton as he suddenly began sifting through papers at the side of his desk, like he had been reminded of something.  
  
“Marry, that they knew each would not be able to defend their own reputations by being near, and that the same woman deceived into tricking Count Claudio was used to make the Lady Beatrice seem to be what she was not, and that they intended for the honourable pair to be forced into a marriage that the villains believed would make them miserable.”  
  
“Nay, I take back mine words and eat them, for you are lower than even the dogs' bowel that hath been attack'd by the worms! Foreseer me not, that thou art the worm! Nay, even the meat on which it feeds, for once the Governor and the Prince hear of this you shall be cast off into development!” cried Dogberry.  
  
The Sexton stood slowly, seemingly focused on the papers in his hands. “What else?”  
  
It was fortunate for Benedick's sanity that the only sensible man under Leonato's command in the room had spoken. He might have snapped, his patience was wearing that thin.  
  
“This is all,” said Seacole.  
  
“Senor Benedick, didst thou and thy men also bear witness to what the watch speaks of?”  
  
Benedick stepped forward when addressed. “Yea, sir: I placed myself and my men after hearing the testimony of a young gentleman of Senor Leonato's that chanced to hear Don John and Borachio plot against my cousin; my hope was to catch them in the act of a villainy to ensure that they could not hurt anyone else.”  
  
Conrade whipped his head to look at Borachio in horror, and the latter paled. They were well and truly caught.  
  
The Sexton slammed his papers down. “And this is more, masters, than you can deny. Prince John is long suspected of creating villainies in Messina, and with this we can now force the Prince to act.” As he spoke, he drew a handgun from his drawer and holstered it. “I must prepare their examinations to show Senor Leonato.”  
  
“Pray, Sexton, a word,” said Benedick.  
  
“I listen, Senor.”  
  
“Whilst I would gladly prevent any foul words from being said against my cousin at the church I believe the surest way to trap John the Bastard is for him to witness his own plan crumble into dust. Let me speak at the church where I shall accuse him and list the evidence. Be there prepared to show the completed examinations to Leonato and the Prince, and for the capture with armed men of the author of all.”  
  
The Sexton nodded. “A plan of sense. Very well, Senor. Master constable, let these men remain bound and ready to be brought to Leonato's. I will go and prepare their examination.”  
  
After the Sexton left, Dogberry grabbed Conrade who shook him off. “Off, coxcomb!”  
  
“God's my life, where's the sexton? Let him write down the prince's officer coxcomb,” cried Dogberry.  
  
“Away! You are an ass, you are an ass!” snapped Conrade before going silent.  
  
Of course his going silent had as much to do with Benedick stepping towards him as the fight going out of him. And nothing to do with Dogberry's wild expression before that man registered Benedick's approach.  
  
Benedick slapped Conrade, nearly knocking the man off his feet. “Rank is no indication of true gentility nor manners: long have I known this, but to see a man whose record in battle could have brought him to advancement had he not accepted the rule of a villain and prov'd himself to be one disgusts me. Don Pedro trusted thee, and thou betrayed him. Pray for death, for thou shall soon no longer be a gentleman.”  
  
The dark promise had Conrade shaking.  
  
Boarchio tried to stand tall as Benedick came toward him, but he was not expecting the Senor to grab his hair and yank his head back. Benedick whispered, “Be glad that young gentlemen are not permitted swords, for the servant who witnessed thee would have gladly run thou through; Mistress Margaret's family would defend her if given half the chance. And a cousin of hers witnessed yesternight's events.”  
  
He let the man go suddenly, making him stumble. He also took dark delight in seeing the villain's face lose almost all its color as the eyes did an impression of suddenly inflated balloons. Especially when he saw the anger in Alonso's whole being.  
  
“Men, away! We must prepare for the wedding and to capture the Bastard.”  
  
With that, Benedick led his men off.  
  
It was just as well he did not have to hear Dogberry rant about  _not_ being 'writ down an ass'.  
  
/=/=/=/  
  
Hero stood in her large wedding dress, fanning herself and waving for a drink of the champagne. Margaret stopped her from drinking and sought a straw from Innogen while Ursula raised the veil to give Hero's neck a breather.  
  
Innogen turned to check on her niece. She was seated at a table on the other side of the room, only being attended to by Maria. She knew that the dress was not quite what Beatrice would have chosen, but such were the suggested styles for persons of her rank.  
  
But the dress was not Innogen's concern. Her concern was her niece's mental state. Told as she was that the plan had been carried out with smashing success she still worried. Her niece had not enjoyed the event Innogen had planned for her girls, and she worried about how prepared Beatrice was to cease to be a maiden.  
  
As much as she had to soon leave to change into her dress she had to encourage her niece. But a quick silent exchange with Maria told her that perhaps the younger woman was better suited to calm the fears; Maria was closer in age to Beatrice and a mother, and as Beatrice's waiting gentlewoman might know best how to speak to the wedding night.  
  
Beatrice held a tissue in one hand and clenched the table with her other. Here it was, the day she had spent most of her life dreading and only since the afternoon prior begun to look forward to. Her wedding-day. Her only comfort was in her intended, for nothing else was going to her preferences.  
  
Starting with her dress. If she had been granted her choice she would have used the lovely gown her mother and grandmother had worn, as she was of a close figure to theirs. But the wrongful shame hanging over her meant that she could not wear white, and therefore a new dress had to be made. In a cream color. Worse still, the shame also meant that hers was also an inferior quality to Hero's, which also rankled because by blood and rank Beatrice was the social better.  
  
Innogen stepped in front of her niece and took her hands to capture her attention. “I know, Niece, that this is not what thou wouldst have chosen, but thou are becoming wife to a man who hath borne a great shame to protect thee. I believe thy parents would have approved of his conduct, and I am sorry that they cannot meet him.”  
  
Beatrice had no words. She merely nodded, sniffling at the memory of her father and the stories of her mother.  
  
Innogen knelt before her. “There are not enough words in any language to speak of the pride and joy I have in thee: thy mother was my friend and I took upon the mantle of raising thee even before I had caught thy uncle's eye and became thy aunt; thou are not merely my niece but a daughter in my heart, and I pray that thy marriage shall make thee happy. And know that though he doth not express it well thy uncle holds thee dear in his heart: you are so like your mother in look that he hath granted thee more liberties than you can possibly know. As much as you devil him he shall miss you, Beatrice, and he wishes he could have done more to protect thee.”  
  
That made Beatrice weep. Long had she wondered whether she was truly dear to those who raised her, and now she had enough of an answer. She clutched her aunt to her for a long moment.  
  
At length Innogen broke the hug, cupped her niece's face tenderly and kissed her forehead. Then she drifted her gaze to check on Hero – who was being guided in breathing exercises by Margaret – before she and Ursula left.  
  
Maria handed Beatrice a box of tissues and helped her dry her eyes. The gentlewoman felt protective of her lady, and more-so since her sister confessed the plan to her in the thought that she could help. Maria had refused to participate, believing that it was cruel to trick them.  
  
“ _A love as strong as what I believe exists cannot be long concealed once they are married,” she had declared. “I doubt Senor Benedick would act so valiantly toward my lady if he did not care for her, and no other man could have persuaded her to accept his protection. All that is required is for them to meet on their wedding night and the flames flickering within each shall combine into a wild fire that shall consume them: they shall emerge from the ashes into a loving marriage.”_  
  
But she was overruled by her mother, the Lady Innogen, the Lady Hero, the Governor, and the Prince. Still, while she could not speak of it she would not assist them. No, her task was to help her lady prepare for the night that would make or break the marriage. Which was compounded by an odd detail: Beatrice had developed a strange habit whenever Benedick's name was mentioned.  
  
Well, she could work around it. Maria sat beside her lady as they ignored the conversation between Hero and Margaret. “My lady, I know the time draws near to an event which you have dreaded, but I pray you do not close yourself off to the chance that love may grow within this marriage if it is not already growing within each of you.”  
  
“You presume much,” Beatrice whispered shortly. She knew Maria meant well, but it was reminding her of her treatment at the hands of Ursula, Hero, and the painters yesterday. She still knew not what to say about it, and had not even spoken of it to Maria.  
  
“Then why challenge him at every opportunity? Why would he seek you out at the revels and at other times? Would it not have made sense for the pair of you to avoid each other if you hated each other so? Why else would the misunderstanding betwixt you have left such a lasting impression?”  
  
Beatrice wrung her hands. “You think we have this merry war because we each cannot bear the thought of  _not_ speaking with the other?”  
  
Maria smiled softly. “The past does not matter now. What matters is how you intend to act in marriage. Is not the Senor the most honourable man in the known lands and would make a good husband?”  
  
The answer took a long moment to come out of Beatrice's lips. “He may be the only man I could ever call 'husband'.”  
  
“And do you love him?” asked Maria, taking her hands.  
  
Beatrice was silent for a long moment. This was the first she had spoken of her feelings since she had seen Benedick. “With so much of who I am that I do not know if any is left that doth not,” she whispered, nearly choking on the weight of the words.  
  
“Such a man cannot but be moved by his lady loving him that much. Did you know that he has not let a lady of the night near him since before  _that_ day?”  
  
“How do you know?” Beatrice gasped.  
  
“My Balthasar hears stories from many of the men, and they have spoken with amazement of it. The Senor is not like the other lords: he believes in the sanctity of the vows, and has been preparing to consider you half himself ever since, I think. And it seems he hath taken great care to never fall ill as many of the men have.”  
  
This was a great shock. So he had always been careful and was entering the marriage having not known any woman in so many months? If she had remained unaware of his feelings, this would have been a great comfort to her. Now it made a smile slowly cross her face.  
  
“Be waiting for him this evening in your special gown, my lady: I suspect you shall find his passions ready to be captured by you, and I pray that his feelings are in agreement with your own.”  
  
Beatrice had to hug her gentlewoman. Maria had known a happy marriage and produced good children. No one's word carried greater weight with Beatrice, as the gentlewoman did not speak with any of the idealism that Margaret held or the tradition that Innogen did.  
  
Of course the great weight of emotion made Beatrice act like she had allergies. Maria had to provide more tissues.  
  
“Why how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?” asked Hero, breaking into their moment.  
  
Beatrice looked up to be certain that she was being addressed, and smiled weakly. “I am out of all other tunes, methinks.”  
  
Margaret decided on a distraction. “Clap's into 'Light o' love, light o' love;' that goes without a burden: do you sing it, and I'll dance it.”  
  
The lady scorned the words. “Ye light o' love, with your heels! Then, if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns.”  
  
“O illegitimate construction!” cried Margaret. “I scorn that with my heels.”  
  
Beatrice groaned, dropping the box back onto the table. “By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho!”  
  
Curiosity about how well the plan had limed Beatrice drew Margaret to speak again. “For a hawk, a horse, or a husband?”  
  
Hero silently warned her and Maria silently glared at her. But Beatrice noticed none of that: “What means the fool, trow?”  
  
“Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire!” the gentlewoman declared.  
  
“These gloves the Count sent me; they are an excellent perfume,” said Hero, showing them to Beatrice.  
  
Beatrice drew away, shivering suddenly. “I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell.”  
  
Margaret spoke thoughtfully, a hint of a tease since to do fully would be in bad taste. “A maid, and stuffed! Is that not goodly catching of cold?”  
  
Beatrice rolled her eyes. Only the length of time between the Incident and this day kept that from seeming rude. “O, God help me! God help me! How long have you professed apprehension?”  
  
“Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely?”  
  
“It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your cap. By my troth, I am sick.”  
  
It was nerves making her so, the weight of worry about her cousin and whether Benedick had successfully caught the villains. Perhaps also her feelings toward Benedick. She would not feel better until after the wedding,  
  
Margaret decided to test the waters. “Why, get you some of this medicine, Carduus Benedictus...”  
  
Beatrice sneezed.  
  
Margaret suppressed laughter. “It is the only thing for a qualm.”  
  
“There thou prickest her with a thistle,” hissed Hero.  
  
Before Maria could lay into Margaret, Beatrice spoke. “Benedictus!” And sneezed again. “Why Benedictus?” And again. “You have moral in this Benedictus.” And yet again.  
  
“Moral!” cried Margaret. “No, by my troth, I have no moral meaning with this Carduus... Benedictus.”  
  
Beatrice sneezed again.  
  
Margaret laughed quietly, going back to Hero's side to put some distance between herself and her sister – and the lady. “I mean, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance that I think you are in love-”  
  
“Silence!”  
  
Maria's outburst startled the other women. Even Hero took a step back on seeing the protective fire in the older gentlewoman's eyes.  
  
“Call yourselves her friends?! What need anyone for enemies when their own family takes pleasure in their discomfort, doth not help them out when they are trapped by accident or by design?”  
  
Hero flinched. How much had Beatrice spoken to Maria about the events of yesterday when the former was attached at Ursula's urging to the painters' hook? Did Beatrice suspect? Did Maria enlighten her despite her promise?  
  
“Whatever her feelings for the man about to be her husband none have the right to make sport of them or her: she has been loyal to him whilst he hath been to her, and I am amazed that none of those who know them did not act more forcefully to defend their honours; what villainy could have held against so many defending the innocent?! May your Count be half the man you think he is, my lady! For I am sure that your cousin's Senor is worth ten o' him!”  
  
Beatrice's mouth hung open. Maria was speaking out of turn, but plainly did not care. Her loyalty to her lady who was being teased wrongfully in her eyes overcame her respect for the other young Lady of the house. She acted like Hero and Margaret were naughty children who needed a scolding and delivered one.  
  
Perhaps the words about Claudio might be a bit much under the circumstances. As far as Maria knew them. Beatrice felt a great heaviness in her heart knowing that Hero's view of Claudio would be deeply shaken today.  
  
Maria held the shocked gazes until Ursula burst into the room. The silence baffled the older gentlewoman but she had a message: “Madams, I am to fetch you: the Prince the Count, Don John, Senor Benedick-”  
  
Hero and Margaret held up their hands. And Beatrice gave the loudest sneeze yet a moment later. It made them cheer until Maria swatted Margaret's arm.  
  
“And all the gallants of the town are come!” added Ursula, making a scolding motion toward Maria.  
  
Maria uncharacteristically ignored her mother's warning. She went to Beatrice and hugged her tightly, uncaring of whether it wrinkled their dresses. “Your courage shall not fail thee, my lady.”  
  
Beatrice returned the embrace. “Thank you for everything, good Maria.”  
  
While Ursula helped Margaret calm the new nerves Hero developed, Maria helped Beatrice stand, dab her face and then lower the shorter part of the veil. It was time.  
  
Beatrice accepted the bouquet from her gentlewoman and took a deep breath. “I am ready,” she announced, adopting a mantle of calm resignation. It would be her mask until Benedick acted.  
  
Soon she would know if her cousin would be properly protected. The wait was almost over.  
  
  
Chapter Nine: [The Most Proper Lord and Lady in Messina](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/93484.html)


	9. The Most Proper Lord and Lady in Messina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[tardis_mole](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.

**Title** : Thou Wilt Quake For This  
**Genre** : Much Ado About Nothing  
**Rating** : T (except for the DVD extra)  
**Author** : [](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/profile)[**tkel_paris**](https://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/)  
**Summary** : Benedick and Beatrice have found themselves forced to marry. While their family and friends are determined to make them fall in love, a chance emerges to expose the villains who trapped them. Can they succeed and protect Hero?  
**Disclaimer** : I don't know who owns what where Shakespeare is concerned. However, Josie O'Rouke owns the version of MAAN I'm basing this on.  
**Dedication** : [](https://sykira.livejournal.com/profile)[**sykira**](https://sykira.livejournal.com/). You know why. May you have plenty of Benedick-flavored dreams after reading this. ;D  
**Author's Note** : This was the third idea that came rather quickly when my Muse was originally prompted by THE scene in MAAN. And a huge thanks to [](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/profile)[**tardis_mole**](https://tardis-mole.livejournal.com/) for beta reading. I needed to figure out how to make this plot bunny work, and that wouldn't have happened in a timely fashion without you.  
  
And I must admit to being inspired by one of the MAAN fanfics I read, "[Messina Sunlight](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10290683/1/Messina-Sunlight)". One action the author had Benedick do seemed SO fitting to this story that I had to include a modified version fitting the events I created. So bless you, imnotacommittee from FF.N!  
  
  
  
  
  
**Thou Wilt Quake For This**  
  
**Started February 26, 2014**  
**Finished October 9, 2014**  
  
  
  
[Chapter One](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/90765.html) / [Chapter Two](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91287.html) / [Chapter Three](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91533.html) / [Chapter Four](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91811.html) / [Chapter Five](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/91971.html) / [Chapter Six](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/92359.html) / [Chapter Seven](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/92548.html) / [Chapter Eight](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/93141.html)  
  
  


**CHAPTER NINE: THE MOST PROPER LORD AND LADY IN MESSINA**  
  
It was a loud time in the church despite the organization. Although the presence of so many in uniform – wearing or carrying their caps, depending on their exact role in connection to the intended couples – helped bring quiet into the room. The only men who would be wearing their caps would be the Prince, Claudio, and Benedick – as per the custom.  
  
Don Pedro stood still and silent as he waited with Claudio by the Friar's side. They were waiting for the moment when the Count had to denounce Hero. It had made their blood loss from drinking feel very heavy indeed.  
  
Although the question of how Benedick would react came to mind as the man himself entered the church, cap under his left arm.  
  
Benedick did not step immediately to his comrades' sides. Instead he paused to stand before the small memorial made in honor of Beatrice's mother, Leonato's only sibling to survive childhood. It seemed that he had been rather fond and protective of his younger sister and therefore took her death – incurred from bringing Beatrice into the world – hard; enough so that he had ordered special additions to the church and the family monuments.  
  
The one before Benedick spoke of a lady's virtue and honor, and her gentle heart. Virtue and honor her daughter had, and a gentleness hidden within a heart filled with a need to stand for what was right. He was not certain he was equal to the task of being Beatrice's husband, but do his best he would. He owed her and their descendants that. And oh did he pray there would be descendants; certainly one on the way by Year's End.  
  
He bowed his head to the memorial and made the sign of the cross. “I shall treasure your child, my Lady. I wish you could have been here to support her.”  
  
Feeling his task done, he then stepped with military precision to stand beside Claudio, nodding to the Prince. “Good day, my lord. Count Claudio. **”**  
  
The terseness of the greeting puzzled both lords. Don Pedro decided to make his remarks casual to encourage his friend to relax before he sprained something. “Welcome, Benedick. How I wish that thee were here to part almost a fray instead of meeting thy present circumstance.”  
  
A scowl crossed Benedick's face. “In a false quarrel there is no true valour.”  
  
Claudio frowned. “A man who enters a false quarrel doth not deserve to be called a gentleman then.”  
  
Benedick's lips thinned at the irony. “Then pray that thy honour is never used against thee, Count.”  
  
“Thou art very calm given the events that brought thee here, Benedick,” noted the Prince, wanting to keep the peace before it was broken by their discovery.  
  
Benedick pursed his lips. It seemed his cryptic warnings would go unheeded. “I have come to honour my vow that I undertook, whether the event itself was intended by me to happen or not.”  
  
Claudio looked at the Prince. It seemed strange that Benedick acted less like a man in love and more like a man itching for a fight. As somber as his mood was, he decided to join the Prince in seeking to lighten the mood. “Perhaps we ought to have been up and down to seek thee; for we are high-proof melancholy from waking and would fain have it beaten away. Wilt thou use thy wit?”  
  
“It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it?”  
  
Don Pedro's eyes widened. Was Benedick hinting that he was considering drawing his sword in church? Surely he knew what bad manners that was! He held up his hands to hold him off. “Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side?”  
  
Claudio ignored the growing alarm of Friar Francis and took a better look at his friend's face. “As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou sick, or angry?”  
  
The words only increased Benedick's sour mood and made him think less of Claudio than before. “Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject.”  
  
A light laugh escaped Claudio, who did not recognize the signs for what they were. “By this light, he changes more and more: I think he be angry indeed.”  
  
“Benedick,” said Don Pedro softly, “pray do not let the Lady Beatrice be greeted by such a state.”  
  
“Then Claudio hath better not give me more reason to speak a word in his ear.”  
  
That silenced the lords, and nearly made the Friar shake. He could hardly believe that no one else marked the exchange, even as quiet as it was.  
  
Benedick could not conceal the relief in his eyes as the wedding march music began. He put on his cap and joined the other two men in turning to see the incoming trio.  
  
The congregation watched as Leonato escorted his daughter on his right arm and his niece on the other. Hero held a gentle smile as her gaze fixed on Claudio, like she had found peace. Beatrice's face was seemingly locked in a grim expression, but there was a flicker of more hopeful emotion as she briefly met Benedick's eyes through her veil.  
  
He read the message clearly and gave the barest hint of a nod and a smile. He had to be the one to act. Especially since Claudio looked away far too soon.  
  
It was enough to calm Beatrice's nerves. He had the proof they needed. She would have to follow his lead, but she trusted him to defend Hero.  
  
Benedick watched their approach and barely restrained the sadness the sight suddenly gave him. The ladies' dresses were more elaborate than Beatrice would have liked. Hero's was a fluffy concoction, and her own – from one conversation they had had during dinner the night of the revels – was in cream rather than white, to fit the shame fit upon her shoulders that had sullied her life and brought her to the altar without her permission or want. And it cost a fraction of the airy material used to create the effect of Hero's gown. If she had been a man, the bride would have been permitted a dress made by the royal dressmaker.  
  
Yet another thing to annoy them both.  
  
Leonato raised the respective veils over each lady's face, and gave each a kiss to bid them farewell as their lord. He also squeezed their hands gently, with a little more tenderness and a longer expression toward Beatrice. A silent apology for failing to defend her as he knew he ought to have.  
  
His sister, Beatrice's mother, had a great deal in common with their mother, Maria Tomasi Di Salvo, the only daughter of the Duke of Venice. Such had been Leonato's pride in and love for his sibling that he had refused many suitors for her because he thought they were not good enough for her; a few he had even sent away because she told him of reasons she had to not trust them. But when a member of the Sicilian royal family – not related to Di Salvo's Tomasi line – came calling and she favored him, Leonato was wild for the match.  
  
Elena's death hit them all hard. He now knew that he had not done enough to show the love he was assured of having toward his beloved sister's only child. Beatrice's father, however, had doted completely on her until his untimely death. Looking back on it, Leonato wondered if Beatrice's manners toward suitors had been her trying to ensure that her father's line received a worthy successor. He supposed that Olivio would have disapproved of all the suitors that came; even Benedick would have been looked on with suspicion, for his rank – a commoner as he was only a younger son of a lord – was perhaps less than what a daughter of a royal line could claim.  
  
Beatrice took his hand. “I forgive thee, Uncle,” she whispered. “I believe my father would have acted very like how you did.” She allowed the love for her uncle that she rarely showed appear in her expression.  
  
Leonato hugged her briefly and smiled with a hint of watery eyes. “Thou hath never been so like thy mother as in this moment, child of my heart,” he whispered back. “I believe thy parents would have eventually approved of Benedick as their son, and be very proud of thee.”  
  
He then stepped to the side, letting the ladies step to their respective new lords before either of them could come close to crying.  
  
Don John watched from his seat behind Innogen. He was satisfied when Claudio turned away to face Friar Francis, brother to Hugh Oatcake. It meant the plan was still in action. Benedick's staring at Beatrice was perhaps not surprising since the man would look a great many dangers in the eye.  
  
But one thing startled him as Beatrice joined Benedick at the altar: he offered his left hand – palm upwards – to her. She placed her right hand over his, apparently accepting his protection implicitly. Then Benedick covered her hand with his other and drew her nearer. What did this mean?  
  
Benedick offered his hand in a moment of inspiration. It would be a comfort to Beatrice, a reminder that he would protect her against any further shame. It would also unnerve the Bastard, making him wonder what the intention was. But most of all it would draw a stark comparison between himself and Claudio: the man who was marrying to defend his lady's honor was acting more like a man in love than the count who had practically gone mad seeking his lady.  
  
It would grant additional weight to the accusation Benedick would launch when the time was right.  
  
Benedick's Captain and Lieutenant saw all, and hid their own satisfaction as they slipped quietly out the doors, ignoring the confused looks on Titus' and Angelo's faces. The Sexton and the Watch, with their captives, waited outside. They would be summoned to enter at Benedick's signal.  
  
Friar Francis began the ceremony. “You come hither, my lords, to marry these respective ladies?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“No.”  
  
That Claudio's answer differed from Benedick's baffled Leonato. “To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her.”  
  
Friar Francis addressed the ladies. “Ladies, you come hither to be married, Hero to this count and Beatrice to this senor?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
This time the answers were identical. The calm within each was nearly the same.  
  
“I address each couple before me: if either of you know any inward impediment why you should be not conjoined, charge you, on your souls, to utter it.”  
  
“I know none for myself,” said Beatrice, stepping slightly forward to eye Claudio's actions.  
  
“And none for myself,” added Benedick, moving slightly back and to the side so he too could watch the Count's actions.  
  
Claudio did not notice, even if the rest of the congregation did. He merely turned his eyes toward the woman who was supposed to become his wife. “Know you any, Hero?”  
  
“None, my lord,” said Hero, at last calm.  
  
Friar Francis was growing uneasy. Only Hero was acting as he had expected. “Know you any, Count?”  
  
Leonato smiled. “I dare make his answer, none.”  
  
Claudio exclaimed, “O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do!”  
  
“And many know not what they are led to! Your words are as empty as those that prompted your present action, Count,” Benedick injected before Claudio could speak again.  
  
Claudio, the Prince and Don John all started. All eyes of the congregation were on the two men. Hero looked back and forth between them, trying to figure out what was happening. Beatrice merely prepared herself to get Hero out of the way when the moment was right.  
  
Friar Francis decided to interpose. “What matter do you speak of, Senor?”  
  
Benedick squeezed Beatrice's hand before letting go to face Claudio fully. “Why, that a man I had called friend and thought had the very bent of honour has allowed a man he ought to know is not to be trusted persuade him that my cousin is no maiden.”  
  
The congregation exclaimed, a cacophony of sounds. Beatrice looked at the assembly and a gleam flashed in her eyes at the horror in Don John's whole manner. She also noted the undisguised relief in Bruno's expression.  
  
Leonato stepped forward to address Claudio. “My lord, does he speak but true? Accuse you my Hero of being a common stale?! Benedick, how do you know of this?”  
  
Benedick stepped closer to his soon-to-be cousin, pausing only to give Beatrice a pointed look before he met the accused's eyes. “Hero, please join your cousin to the side.”  
  
Hero looked at him in shock. “What for?”  
  
“Come, Hero!” hissed Beatrice, dragging her by the arm several steps away and then behind her.  
  
It then dawned on the Prince and the Count that Benedick  _was_ spoiling for a fight and that he had aimed his anger at Claudio the whole time. But why?  
  
With Hero out of any danger of being thrown or hit or beaten, Benedick was at liberty to answer his uncle. “Through the events requiring the examination that you were summon'd to this morn; I fear Constable Dogberry was too... cunning to properly communicate the accusations against the men to be questioned, and therefore the Sexton had to act in thy place.”  
  
Don Pedro had to step forward, intrigued even as Leonato gave himself a silent talking to for not learning how to decipher Dogberry's words. “What means thee, Benedick? What reason doth thou have to challenge Claudio's word?”  
  
“Why, my lord, I shall tell all the tale, but be prepar'd. Captain!”  
  
At Benedick's call a commotion came from outside. “Come you, sirs; you must be looked to,” came the voice of Dogberry before the source of the commotion came inside.  
  
The Captain marched Borachio in, the Lieutenant marched Conrade, and the rest of the Watch and the Sexton following. Margaret's cry was the loudest, but the biggest reaction was from Don John who jumped out of his seat. Attracting Innogen's attention and suspicions.  
  
Don Pedro was in almost as much surprise. “Two of my brother's men bound! Officer, what offence have these men done?”  
  
The Captain and Lieutenant each shoved their captive to stand before Don Pedro. The former looked calmly at his commander's lord. “Perhaps, Prince, you should ask them yourself.”  
  
The answer was not what Don Pedro sought, but he looked at Don John, and frowned at the demeanor he saw. He shared an alarmed look with Claudio before he turned back to the bound men. “Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? What's your offence?”  
  
The two captives exchanged a defeated look, and a nod from Conrade told Boarchio that his confession was to be first.  
  
“Sweet Prince, do you hear me, and let this Count kill me.”  
  
“Or this Senor kill us both, once we hath each been heard,” added Conrade.  
  
Claudio stared in shock at them both. He glanced at Benedick, who plainly expected the words.  
  
Borachio continued, “I have deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms could not discover, these... shallow fools of the Watch and observant men of the Senor's have brought to light: who in the night overheard me confessing to this man how Don John your brother incensed me to slander the lady Hero, how you were brought to see me court Margaret in Hero's garments.”  
  
No one, not even Margaret, could speak.  
  
Conrade picked up the tale. “And they also overheard me confessing to this man how I had chanced to overhear the Prince order Benedick on a secret mission which meant that he was not in Messina when he was supposed to be there in the Lady Beatrice's company: such I told my lord Don John.”  
  
“And I further recounted how upon learning from Margaret who I had already plied with drink that the Lady would be indisposed and without witnesses to where she was, I persuaded Margaret to return to my side in Beatrice's garments; and how I acted and guided her to make any witnesses believe that in the dark they saw Benedick and Beatrice,” admitted Borachio.  
  
An even greater silence fell over the room. Don John looked for an escape but Benedick's men had him surrounded.  
  
Borachio tried to hold his head high, but looked heavenward – well aware he did not deserve its comfort. “Our villainy they have upon record; which my friend and I had rather seal with our deaths than repeat over to our shame. And, briefly, we desire nothing but the reward of villains.”  
  
Don Pedro rubbed his eye and face hard, only letting them fall when he could not hold them up. He stared to the side sightlessly whilst Claudio stood stock still and staring at the ground near his feet.  
  
At length the Prince found his voice. “Runs not this speech like iron through your blood?”  
  
“I have drunk poison whilst he utter'd it,” Claudio mumbled.  
  
“But did my brother set thee on to these?” demanded Don Pedro.  
  
“Yea, and paid us richly for the practice of them,” admitted Borachio.  
  
The Prince nearly paced but instead looked at Benedick. “How didst thou know to place thy men so well?”  
  
The tone was less disbelieving and more of a dawning horror as his better feelings from the night before returned full force.  
  
“My information is in the overhearing of a servant of Leonato's; servants I note can be forgotten if they do their appointed tasks well, and child servants are even more easily ignored. Thus the young gentleman of Leonato's household was not even noted when Don John vented his spleen in displeasure that he had failed to prevent the possibility of Count Claudio marrying Hero, and how Borachio claimed he could cross the match by performing the deception which was performed yesternight on thyself, Prince, and on the Count. Aye, my lord, a deception that was not carried out until thy both were deeply in thy cups with merriment.” He paused to look at Beatrice, nodding for her to speak.  
  
Which she did, primly and proudly. “To defend Hero against such slander the Senor urged me to stay at my cousin's side the whole night, to ensure that I continued what hath been for this twelvemonth and been her bedfellow. When my aunt did escort Hero home did I go with them, just after I witnessed Borachio steal something of Hero's to further the deception.”  
  
Benedick spoke over the murmurs of the congregation. “And I commanded my most trusted men to follow Don John, Borachio, and Conrade yesternight; I rejoined them as soon as I could respectfully leave Leonato's side. Once I had and the entertainment of the night had left did we see Don John approach thee, Prince. A few of my men left earlier when Borachio departed to begin his part, and the rest followed Don John as he led the Prince and Claudio to where the ladies had gathered.”  
  
Margaret stood in horror, looking like she could not quite swallow the words and yet was connecting the pieces. “What?! Senor, do you mean that Borachio deliberately plied me with drink to encourage my actions on both nights?”  
  
Benedick gave her a sad look. Assured as he was that only himself, Don Pedro, Claudio, and his own men had witnessed the act, he hoped that with careful words her reputation would not so damaged that she could not marry. “How well doth your memory of yesternight and that one night fare, Mistress Margaret? I am of the belief that each night your drink was spiked by Borachio in much the same manner as I witnessed Don John spike Claudio's drink before making his announcement that he and the Prince follow him. Remember you those moments?”  
  
She blushed. “Not very well, I confess.”  
  
“He intended it to be that way, else thou might have realized he called thee by the wrong name.”  
  
Margaret's memory dredged one moment where such an action would have looked very bad to anyone watching. Especially if they thought she was Hero. She covered her mouth and sank into her seat. “O god, what did I do?!” she wailed.  
  
Benedick immediately addressed the assembled crowd to allow Margaret a chance to recover herself while her parents went to her side, too shocked to react.  
  
“After thee three left, Prince, I waited with my men to consider what we had seen and how to inform Leonato. We then saw Conrade be found by Borachio, and the tale began to unfold at the former's insistence; there did Borachio boast of what he had done against Hero, and then Conrade mentioned what his own part had been in the deception against myself and the Lady Beatrice: then did we capture them. I only insist of my lord that the author of all be likewise bound to his word, and that I may devise brave punishments for him. And a reward granted to the young gentleman whose honesty nearly went unnoticed if not for Beatrice: and that gentleman is Bruno.”  
  
Balthasar sucked in a breath as the congregation murmured. “Those notes I took... those were thy attempt to gain an audience!”  
  
Ursula's eyes widened. “Thy attempt to speak with me had naught to do with thy toy, but everything with those overhearings!”  
  
“The movements as the revels ended,” Titus added, the truth dawning on him.  
  
Leonato's numb face saw widening eyes. “That look as you walked away... You were hoping to tell me of the plot.”  
  
“There was a great weight hanging over thee,” Maria voiced, taking her son's hand. “Yet it was gone that afternoon.”  
  
Bruno saw all eyes on him and had to admit to his part. “I met the Lady Beatrice and begged an audience with her. She brought me to Senor Benedick's notice immediately.”  
  
Don John shook, red-faced and clenching his fists. Words deserted him but for a moment. “I am undone by a mere servant, a boy at that?! The boy should be whipped for listening in on his betters! The word of a servant does not – nay, should not – better me!” He turned his head and glared at the child sitting at the back of the church with his family, and his expression turned murderous. He lunged with his hands outstretched toward the boy's throat, only to be knocked to the floor by Innogen.  
  
Many stared in shock. A few, Benedick and Beatrice included, stared more in awe.  
  
“Pray excuse my unladylike act, my lords, my husband,” she puffed at them, and barely rubbing her complaining hand. “But that did feel good. Liken honour with honey and upholding it the bee. It has its own sting, but pleasure in the eating nonetheless.”  
  
In truth Leonato could not fault his wife. This was their daughter and niece's respective honors at stake, and she was a lioness when her girls were threatened and she saw a way to strike.  
  
At her feet, Don John raged at her.  
  
“Enough, brother!” Don Pedro also shook, white-faced and tense. “How close you came to making a fool out of me and the Count! No more villainy for thee! Benedick shall decide thy punishments, and our father thy ultimate fate. Take him away, men!”  
  
There was silence as the soldiers seized Don John. The Captain bound him, shooting a dark look that removed much of the rage from the Bastard's manner.  
  
“Hold!”  
  
Beatrice's cry startled the assembly. Benedick's eyes were the widest. “Beatrice?” he breathed.  
  
She marched to his side. “Wronged and unable to act have I been since this lie was perpetuated: have not I earned as much right to decide the punishments as thee?”  
  
While the whole assembly looked on her in shock, Benedick's face merely contorted for a moment before it settled into a hint of shame. “Forgive me, my lady; thou hast more right than I: would it satisfy thee to select the brave punishments? Perhaps even let Hero and Margaret give suggestions?”  
  
“Yea; I wish that other villains may learn to respect a woman's ability to find ways to defend herself, and to ensure that these ones before us learn why they ought to have feared me.”  
  
Don John laughed. “Fear a woman? He who does is no man!”  
  
Beatrice stormed to stand right in front of him. The men restraining him held firmer, to ensure he could not harm her. “Here is my answer to that, snake!”  
  
One of her knees flew upwards, without her placing hands to stabilize herself, and made contact with the heart of his being, wounding pride and body to extremes. The Bastard was left trying to hunch over as he screamed, instantly sweating heavily and turning pale. Every man in the room flinched, although Benedick's reaction was held to a twitch in the face. He alone suspected what she had intended.  
  
Conrade and Borachio shook more than anyone. But the latter happened to accidentally catch Maria's eye, and paled further at the fury he saw there. She was sister to Margaret, and was Beatrice's waiting gentlewoman; she had three reasons to ask to join in choosing the punishments, and he had no faith that she would show any more mercy than her fiery Lady seemed inclined toward. Whatever punishments Alonso had in mind suddenly seemed wished for.  
  
Pleased with her work, Beatrice stood tall over the man responsible for her situation. “Believe me when I swear that thy other punishments will make thee yearn for this pain. Take him away!”  
  
The chief villain was then led off. The soldiers followed, more just in case. Even though none doubted the large Captain's ability to manage the short Don John by himself.  
  
Claudio stood ashen and shaking. His mouth moved, but no words escaped.  
  
While Beatrice returned to Hero's side with a lighter air in her step than before, Leonato looked at Margaret. “Margaret, were thou pack'd in all these wrongs, hir'd to it by Don John?”  
  
“No, by my soul, she was not, nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, but always hath been just and virtuous in any thing that I do know by her!” cried Borachio, impassioned. He would endure additional shame rather than see the lady he had used cruelly punished for his own sins.  
  
It was small comfort to Margaret, for her parents gave her a glare that said she was going to hear a great deal from them once they were home.  
  
Leonato motioned for the remaining villains to be led off. Dogberry led the procession out, with some of Benedick's men following just in case.  
  
Hero looked at Claudio, blinking at the sight before her. She had finally found her voice and it had never sounded firmer without shouting. “Is my lord well that he doth listen to so wide a plot? Tell me, Claudio, thou did not truly believe this deception, did thee?!”  
  
Benedick had thought hard about what to do if Hero did see the evidence, but he decided that such a lecture might be best saved for private. So he chose to help the Count save face before the assembly. “He was deeply in his cups, cousin; a man who has been so expertly convinc'd to drink poison faces a sickening awakening once his awareness returns. He may require thy loving hand and compassion to forgive himself; and yet I would be cautious in accepting him again, Cousin: a man who trust'd his lady as half himself having taken the time to know her ways would have never been so deceiv'd no matter how much drink was plied into his stomach.”  
  
Claudio and Don Pedro were duly stricken by the pointed remark.  
  
The Friar looked to Hero. “Lady, what doth thou wish knowing what nearly transpired under a grave biting error?”  
  
Hero looked at Claudio, her eyes wet and her body trembling. “I cannot believe that my lord would so easily be led to believe that I could act so wantonly, that I should have no sense of decorum or honour! I had Hestia and not Dionysis as my template. I believed thou like Hercules in thy valour, like Arete in honour, and like Appollo in love; and this is how I am repaid for mine loyalty and love? To be disgraced if not for mine new cousin who may  _indeed_ be the only man of Messina?”  
  
“So thou doth believe that, sweet Hero?” asked Beatrice, her tone lilting with an unspoken question.  
  
Hero paused before she looked at Beatrice, and a tiny flush appeared on her face as she saw that Beatrice was aware of the deception practiced on her and Benedick. But she rallied as she knew her cousin would not reveal that and that their audience – including the other participants – remained unaware. But she did not need to look at Ursula and Margaret to know they also flushed. “Yay, Cos; thy husband hath all the honour for all his pretence of frivolity, all possible right to be bound to a lady of our standing. God give thee every joy, cousins.”  
  
Overwhelmed, Hero fell to her knees before her mother and began crying. Innogen wrapped her arms around her child and tried to whisper comfort to her.  
  
Leonato looked pained, although none could tell if it was solely from how tense he stood from the revelation of the plot against his child and niece. At length did he speak. “Prince, Count, I had not thought it possible I could have ill words to speak against either of thee; yet now mine honour demands to take mine child back under my protection until I am satisfied that she shall not be treated so again.”  
  
The words drew Claudio to defend himself. “I know not how to pray your patience; yet I must speak.”  
  
The whole assembly looked on expectantly, waiting to see how the Count would act.  
  
Claudio dropped his hands to his sides. “Choose your revenge yourself; impose me to what penance your invention can lay upon my sin: for... sinn'd I did in mistaking.” He would have spoken slightly otherwise, but the dangerous look in Benedick's eyes told him to tread with care.  
  
The Prince recovered himself enough to step forward, removing his cap as he did. “To satisfy this good old man and his daughter, I would bend under any heavy weight that he'll enjoin me to.”  
  
At the surprise of the assembly at his seeming to forget he was at least two ranks higher than Leonato, he rubbed a hand across his flecked and worried brow for a moment. “My lord, Leonato and all those here as witness; my father would have me return home to be a floor washer rather than bring him shame. His bastard son is one thing, but I, the heir, should have been beyond reproach. And yet I have fallen for the villainy myself. I shall not hear the end, and though if I were a lesser man I would beg of it by sword if necessity asked it of me. But I am a man, and therefore, I will not turn aside. By my honour and valour, before the Governor I would, on bended knee, beg for swiftness to his decision on my punishment so that I might entreat with my father all the sooner, and have my ear bent by him rather than thee. For, even as thee hath the authority here, I fear his anger more.”  
  
Leonato released a tight sigh. This was most unusual. He, being called to punish the Prince? He had not the heart nor the spine. “I believe you have suffered enough at your half-brother's hands,” he decided quickly. “I think all who know him and know of him would say that is punishment enough. I pity you when your father hears what you have to say and thank god my feet are too small for your shoes. I shall think on it... if I must,” he decided at length.  
  
Don Pedro nodded, without much relief.  
  
That left Leonato with the Count to consider. He looked at the contrite man for a long moment, and then shared a look with his wife as his eyes also checked on their still sobbing daughter. The sight of Hero so broken-hearted made up his mind. “Count, my heart and mind are too weighted with emotion to fairly judge what thy penance ought to be. That you may not be bound to Hero is the only thing I am certain of.”  
  
Hero heard and lifted her head, trying to find her footing. “Father-”  
  
He held up a hand. “Not today.” he amended, acknowledging the plea in his daughter's eyes. “If thou will submit to whatever penance I devise upon careful thought then when it is over, Hero may be approached again for consent. Only if she hears directly from thee and is convinced that she ought to give thee another chance shall you meet her again at the altar.”  
  
Leonato was thinking of making the man serve a year in his own army. Perhaps a trusted man of Don Pedro's would remain with him to ensure it was not overstepped in either direction. Depending on what the King decided, the man might be the Prince himself.  
  
Claudio slowly nodded. “I do embrace those terms, noble sir; and dispose for henceforth of poor Claudio.”  
  
With that he stepped aside, joining the now silent Prince and removing his cap. Each put theirs under their arm.  
  
Friar Francis looked from Benedick to Claudio and back again. “Senor, thy wisdom hath prevented a grave biting error from taking place, and sent three villains to their rightful fates on this world. Yet I must note now that even with such actions justly brought to light the necessity of thy marriage remains: I fear that blame would still attach to either should you neither wish for this match.”  
  
Benedick nodded in understanding but raised his hand to halt the Friar's speech. “Troth, Friar, mine answer remains the same; where else shall I find such a woman of wisdom and beauty whose wit can meet or even exceed mine? Beatrice is a worthy lady to be loved and made half a man's self even as she makes him half herself; I hath long determined it would be the highest honour to be bound to her and her family's traditions, and I have prayed for as long a time that she might feel the same.”  
  
The Friar looked at Beatrice. “Lady, what doth thou wish? Would thou be wedded to this man?”  
  
Beatrice smiled at Benedick as she returned to his side. “The Senor hath prov'd himself the best man in the land, the most honourable that ever liv'd, and vow'd to respect mine traditions; he hath prov'd so long enough that I held hope that he would return the feelings I hid so deeply when we misunderstood each other ten years hence. Yea, I shall have him as my husband and... by  _law_ if not action... my lord.”  
  
Applause broke, with some females – particularly Margaret, as chastised as she was – squealing in subdued delight. Benedick and Beatrice gainfully tried to ignore their surroundings as he doffed his cap, took her hand and kissed it, bowing low over it to do so. A sign of his acceptance of her family's ways.  
  
And so they moved to stand again before the Friar so he could speak the rites.  
  
When the Friar declared them married, Beatrice gladly tossed aside her bouquet – not noticing that Margaret caught it – as Benedick cupped her face with one hand – the other being needed to first remove the cap again – for their first kiss. A kiss that soon had their arms wrapped around each other and their attention wholly captured by the other. There was at one point the telltale foot swept behind Beatrice to prove the romance of the moment. A moment that earned applause.  
  
If nothing else had proved that they entered this marriage innocent of the charges against them, the overwhelming passion unleashed right then would. Nothing done in sin could account for this enthusiasm in an embrace. This was the touch between a pair whose passions had  _long_ been suppressed.  
  
The sight was agony to Claudio, knowing that if he had been skeptical as he ought to have been he could be now embracing Hero as his bride. Hero was likewise pained, but relieved that her cousin would not be in a loveless marriage.  
  
But none hurt more than Don Pedro. His own brother proved a villain beyond all reckoning, his own honor tarnished, and now he knew that was deeply pained by his own heart at the sight before him. Happy as he was that his right hand had found happiness he could not help that wish deep within that it could have been he who called Beatrice wife now.  
  
Not that he would ever let Benedick know that the words had been anything but a jest to make him realize his own feelings.  
  
No one dared break their focus on the other, not given what they had been through. Leonato looked like he was considering it but Innogen kept touching his hand to stop him; no one would stop her girl's moment except Beatrice and Benedick themselves.  
  
At length they felt a need for air that could not be satisfied while kissing and they parted. They stared at each other, his hands to his sides to prevent anything untoward happening and hers near him for balance. They turned toward their audience – he wrapping one arm around her shoulders while his face proved he would be a good gurning competitor, she taking that hand, cap and all, over her shoulder and wrapping her other arm around his waist while she struggled to use her breathing to recover her composure – and flushed when additional applause – with a little laughter – came.  
  
He held up a hand to silence the applause. He whispered to Beatrice, and she nodded with a smile, content to let him speak. The words would hit the hardest coming from him.  
  
Benedick met the eyes of the Prince, Claudio, Leonato, Margaret, Hero, and Ursula as he spoke. “My wife and I thank you, one and all, for your great pains in rendering us admissible to love, though they be wasted upon a trifle since even through our merry war we have had great affection for each other and in innocence, despite the false witness, have we kept chaste for the marriage bed.”  
  
The words left the assembly in silence. Much to the pair's satisfaction.  
  
**THE END**  
  
  
DVD Extra: [Buried In Thy Eyes](http://tkel-paris.livejournal.com/93741.html)


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